Mind Over Matter
by eyyowlf
Summary: The adventures of the first human Spectre, the Butcher of Torfan, the son of Mindoir. Mild au for original subplots and sidequests. Ruthless Vanguard with concentration on biotics, aliens, milSF, and secondary crew. MShep/Ash, Shep Kaidan friendship.
1. Chapter 1

He was an officer and a gentleman, the pride of Earth, a soldier and a hero. Abandoned as a child, he ran the streets and suffered a life of poverty and crime, until the fateful day he picked the pocket of an off-duty captain. His wise mentor unlocked the true goodness of the brave soul within, and that poor boy rose from obscurity to a distinguished career in the Alliance Navy. He was a paragon of justice and freedom and his name was destined to live forever.

And so, when the Alliance Navy needed a man to lead the marines aboard the fleet's newest vessel, a man to stand before the Council as a worthy candidate, it was only natural that all eyes should turn to the mighty Hero of the Skyllian Blitz.

Unfortunately, he died in a motorcycle accident three weeks ago. His name was struck off the top of the list, and those distant others were bandied about. Admiral Hackett preferred strong and decisive men and women who represented the might of the newly-discovered human race; Ambassador Udina insisted on a charismatic and socially adept representative, someone with personal charm and "people skills".

"Personal charm? People skills?" Hackett had barked. "What the hell do you think this is, a dance card for a spring cotillion?"

"No, it is you who does not understand what the hell this is!" Udina snapped. "We are putting forth a potential candidate for a human Spectre, the first we've ever had. We have to show them we are a mature species with much to offer. We aren't going to send some gun-toting psychotic! We can't stand on military strength! The turians--"

"You're bringing that up?" Hackett said. "That was decades ago. "

"My point remains, we cannot stand on an image of--"

"We've learned from then, and, God knows, we would have smoked those bastards if Williams hadn't gone and given up Shan Xi, and if the Council hadn't butted in to save them--"

"We should bring out Shepard," Captain Anderson said.

"The Turians are stronger and there's no need to try and convince anyone otherwise, what we want to project here is someone who can communicate and represent a positive image of--"

"Hugging all the aliens, singing kumbaya," Hackett said. "They only respect strength."

"Shepard," Anderson said.

"What they respect is good behavior, thoughtful actions, and the ability to see from different perspectives," Udina said. "That is why I recommend Lieutenant Redding. You will find his full profile here which I have enclosed."

"Redding! He isn't even on this list."

The ambassador angled a look down his nose. "I have enclosed his profile."

"Forget Redding. Shepard's our man." Anderson sat patiently.

"Anderson-- ("Yes sir") not Redding. Sweet Jesus. The man's a blowhard and a coward. He's irritating enough to the home team, you think the aliens are going to put up with that?"

"He comes highly recommended!"

"Only because of whose son he is! It was a mistake to have you in on this, Udina. We can't play petty politics with this! You think the Turians are going to be wowed by his social circles? You think that's gonna blow the beaks out of the water when they find out whose cocktail parties he got invited to? They'll know what he is in one minute. They smell blood."

"You forget, Admiral, that I am 'in on this' because the Normandy project was also sponsored by the Council. The Spectre program is run by the Council. I, the ambassador, represent Earth to the Council. If anything, I should have final say on the candidate as you speak only for the military whereas I speak for all of Earth-- and our colonies."

"And you don't have an ego about it at all, do ya, you're a real saint Udina." Hackett sighed, and helped himself to a handful of mints from the dish on the table. "Not Redding. I can tell you that much."

"Gentlemen," Anderson said. "Sir." He looked to Hackett, and he smiled. "What about Shepard?"

Hackett looked at him like he heard him for the first time, really heard him, and what he had heard was Anderson naming the name of the Cookie Monster. "You can't be serious," he said, chewing his mints. "He's not even on this list." He thought about it a little more and said, with a smirk of disbelief. "Maybe on the list that says people not to send, under any circumstances."

"He's on our list now." A dramatic beat, and then Anderson continued, "Shepard was personally recommended by the Turian Spectre, Nihlus Kryik."

"I hadn't heard of this," Udina said, brows furrowing suspiciously. "Shepard." The wheels were working. "That young man who caused all the trouble at the Danvers party? That Shepard?"

Captain Anderson waved it away with gentlemanly disinterest in other people's business. "I don't know about what happened. I wasn't there." He plunged in. "Commander Shepard. John Shepard. Born on Mindoir, age 29, biotic, versed in major turian dialects--"

"He punched Danvers' wife in front of everyone." Udina remembered now, latched onto it, the outrage all across his face.

"Well, I can't remark on that, but that business was between Shepard and Mrs. Danvers," Anderson said, in a sensible tone.

"She fell in the cake." Udina narrowed his eyes. "And the punch bowl."

Hackett threw up his hands in absurdity of it all. "So aptly named, he just couldn't help himself." He made a sarcastic smirk through the chewing of his mints. "Are we seriously discussing this?"

Anderson smiled and shrugged, as if dismissing the deeds of a favorite toddler or a naughty puppy. "Shepard has a.. strong personality. I'm sure the other species will love him. They always do."

Hackett said, "I heard about that," popped another mint in his mouth, and said, "Anderson, you've got to be shitting me."

"He's also very intelligent, and he has good judgment."

"Which he has shown by, say, assaulting Mrs. Danvers in front of all her guests?"

"Shepard is usually very charming, no problems with anyone. Self-confident, and men listen to him," Anderson went right along, "and he understands a lot more about alien species than most others on this list, so I think that--"

Hackett jacked up his brows. "He's also batshit insane. Just a minor point for our consideration. Everything else is stellar, it's just that batshit insane part, captain."

"Like many of our biotic soldiers, he displays certain personality quirks, but his abilities vastly outweigh any negative points. Quirks, really. Minor personality quirks."

"Batshit. Insane. You don't think I get a chuckle now and then about our boy and the shit he gets up to, but do you really want him and his crack-ups out there for the galaxy to see?" Hackett shook his head. "I don't know if we can take a chance here with Crazy Johnny. Although I can't say I wouldn't like to scoot up with some popcorn and watch it all go down, this is a big deal. They'll never let us play in their reindeer games."

"With all due respect, sir," Anderson went on, "his most recent psych evaluation came back clean. He has never betrayed our trust, and he always gets the job done."

"No matter the price," Udina said. "The Butcher of Torfan." The ambassador's tone contained the same level of contempt with which he pronounced his opinion on the Danvers Cake episode.

"The batarians had it coming." Hackett shrugged. "Nobody wanted what happened... but they started it. Shepard finished it." After the initial surprise, a point of interest filtered back to him. "Anderson. You said a Spectre recommended him."

The captain seized on this, sensing opportunity. "Yes. Nihlus, the Lone Wolf. A turian. He sent me a message this morning. I did forward this to you both.. "

Hackett and Udina frowned at him. The ambassador toggled the screen on his viewer, glanced contemptuously over the top, and then saw it there on the computer, that offending fwd: re: article. Hackett didn't bother to read his own. He never did. That's what Miss Woods was for, anyway.

"A turian Spectre. What does that mean?" Hackett wiped mint dust from his hands, and then leaned back. His furrowed brow and twitchy eye telegraphed the suspicion he was working through, as though what could those beaks be up to now?

"He'll embarrass us," Udina said, his hands giving a light shove away from the table. The realization was sudden and terrible. "He wishes to embarrass us in front of the Council. This Shepard.. he isn't qualified. The turian will stand him up in front of everyone and it will only prove we aren't ready yet. I'll look like a fool in front of them. I'll never be a Councillor."

Hackett, meanwhile, kept his panties out of a twist. "As though they haven't already tried that game," he murmured, glancing along to the captain.

"I don't know. Who can really know what he intends?" Anderson shook his head. "I believe him. It makes sense from a turian's point of view. Shepard is ruthless when he has to be. Direct. He is a true soldier.. he knows his place. Say what you will about him, but he has always obeyed. He knows what he is. He lives for the Navy. I can believe that this turian looks on him, hears his deeds, reads his record, and says, 'there is a human a turian could respect'."

The admiral tapped his fingers on the desk. He had one of those old-fashioned ink blotters. "Anderson, you almost, almost make a halfway decent case. We could really use this, if we could just rein him in. He always does well with aliens. A little too well, if there's anything to the rumors. He knows how the turians operate." He followed this line of thought silently, and then said, almost eagerly, "You know, it's the turians who matter most on the 've got the strongest fleet, according to policy, their dreadnaughts.."

"I can't believe we are seriously discussing this," Udina said. "Even if we suppose that Nihlus has no underhanded motives, he is only one Spectre out of several. And not the only turian. Do you suppose Saren Arterius would believe Shepard a good choice, looking on him like a turian would?"

"Saren hates all humans," Anderson said. "His opinion in that matter means nothing. Less than nothing. I know the salarians would see potential in Shepard. He was brought up to be well-educated, and not only is he intelligent, he's a crafty son of a bitch when he has to be. The salarians will understand the decisions he's made. And the asari.. "

"I suppose they'd be better-disposed toward a biotic Spectre," Hackett mused. "And he's a good looker, too, you know the ladies get a soft spot for that."

Udina crossed his arms. "The asari are not truly women as we would consider them, and it is offensive to assume that--"

"Relax, Ambassador. I'm just throwing that out there. I suppose I'm still in shock and the reality hasn't set in yet. Christ on a crutch." Hackett grinned that grin that made him the youngest Hackett's favorite grandpa. "Can you imagine-- " the absurdity on his face, "--Johnny Shepard, Spectre? Representing all humanity? I give it two weeks before the Citadel's on fire and the asari councillor is pregnant. And the turian."

Anderson rose with dignity, or damned stubbornness, holding steadfast to his dream. "Gentlemen, say what you will about Shepard, but I believe he is the best man for this mission. We'll bring him onboard for the Normandy's maiden voyage and there I will prove your reservations to be unfounded."

"Why do I have this picture of him steering it straight into the nearest sun?" Udina grumped.

"Because you've been putting stock in petty gossip, ambassador," Anderson said. "I've known the man for many years. I'd trust him with my life, and I already have. He is like a son to me."

"You could invite that turian along. That Spectre." Hackett leaned back in his chair. "You'll have the chance to evaluate his motives.. as well as Shepard's behavior. See if he's ready for this."

"Shepard is ready. I believe it. I've seen it. I know we all wanted our famous Hero of the Blitz, and it's a damned shame to lose him, but we have to go on now with the men we have left." Seeing that the admiral seemed to warm to the idea, Anderson was emboldened. "Shepard is our man. It's his time."

Then Hackett just heaved a sigh. "Damnit, Anderson. It's just he's one of those biotics.. who's to say he wouldn't just have a meltdown one day? You know what I'm talking about."

"That was an isolated incident," the captain replied. A moment passed before he stressed, "My report was clear on the external nature of that incident. The testimony of the chief medical officer reflect that as well. That's not relevant to our discussion here."

"Isolated or not, that was one hell of an incident." Hackett went sour. "I don't want to wait around and see if he snaps one day, not if he's handed over to the Council. What about all of the things that he knows?" After a slight pause, the unthinkable came to him, and he blurted, "What if he wakes up one day and decides to get Palaven on the horn and tell all our weaknesses? That's what I'm worried about. I'm worried we can't trust him out there with them."

"Everything is about the turians, isn't it? To you? Wake up, Hackett! We would have lost that war. There isn't going to be another."

"If it hadn't been for Williams--" Hackett started back up again.

"Gentlemen." Anderson raised a staying hand. "We can trust Shepard. We already have. He is a firm patriot and he would never turn against Earth. I can tell you that. The Navy is like a family to him. All that he has left. He's not insane. He's.. a colorful character, that's true, but it's the stuff legends are made of. Like Kastanie Drescher. Like Patton."

"But I don't recall Patton killing people with his mind. Or fucking turians," Hackett said. He went back to his mints.

"If he had, I might have studied World War Two more in-depth," Anderson rejoined.

The admiral was growing weary of this discussion. He crunched on the mints for a moment, working, thinking. "Anderson. If.. if we do this. If this happens. He'll be on a short leash. Your leash. Your watch."

"Absolutely, and there are two additional crew that I believe will be perfect for this mission. One is Doctor Chakwas, you'll remember her, she knows Shepard well and she has some experience in treating biotics. She'll be able to help monitor any physical, medical issues that might arise. And I will want to include another biotic, Lieutenant Alenko; he's had over a dozen commendations and displays no negative psychological effects. Competent, patient, level-headed, and personally courageous."

"You think you'll be able to keep him under wraps. The two of you and your good biotic."

"He doesn't need to be 'under wraps', sir. But yes. In a way. I think the two of them will be a good influence on him, Alenko in particular."

"And when the two of them commandeer the Normandy on some psychotic tangent?"

"No chance, sir. Alenko isn't like that. He's a regular Boy Scout. Isn't the least unstable, he just gets headaches from time to time. No. He always follows the rules. No Major Kyle business here at all. He's solid as a rock."

Hackett sighed. "I don't know what to say."

"Say, 'At least it isn't Redding,' sir." Anderson smiled.

"Redding stands head and shoulders above Shepard, above any of these names." Sensing things were not going to go his way, Udina was suddenly spiteful. "You'll wished you had listened to me when this Shepard makes fools of all of us. How can you let this happen when you have such doubts?" He turned to Hackett, looking for a last chance.

For a moment, there was no sound but of the admiral crunching on mints. Anderson leaned back slightly, watching his face, expectant.

"Too late, Udina. It's done." Hackett rested his forehead on his fingertips. "Captain Anderson-- good luck, and Godspeed. If this goes south, you'll be lucky if I let you be a mall cop after this, let alone a captain."

"Duly noted, sir. Ah. There's one more thing."

"What's that?"

"Just a formality.."

Hackett smirked. "Oh, that." He just shook his head. Was there anything else today? "Yes, I'll call down there. Level five, isn't it. You can go get him out of the brig."


	2. Chapter 2

Alone in the lift, Captain David Anderson wiped his brow, straightened his dress blues, and said, silently, _Just let me get him out of here without incident._ The car rumbled, settled, and the door hissed. Anderson opened his eyes and marched resolutely into the drab, scuffed corridor that led to the penitentiary. Behind proofed glass, a young soldier questioned him through a speaker. Hackett had already called down and an escort was waiting.

The prison here housed offenders from the military, as well as civilian criminals from Arcturus Station, out of practicality. The defenses were hardened, the walls generally soundproofed, and there had rarely been any real issues of security.

Behind glass, Anderson could see a squad of inmates at daily exercises, and he could hear the guard sergeant calling out the next in the set. Down the way, another group of inmates were set to work cleaning a common area and their cells.

They turned a corner and went down a new corridor of temporary confinement. In all the vids, prisons were supposed to be loud and chaotic, with jeering, disgusting prisoners. This sector was eerily quiet. It added to Anderson's growing sense of dread as he wondered what in the hell Shepard was up to now. When he'd called Shepard down on the fourth floor, Cynthia had told him the news-- what little she knew at the time. She was in tears, but then, she was a bit flaky like that. Or maybe working for Shepard had made her like that. Anderson hadn't had the time to play phone tag to find out all the details; he had to rush to the office of the admiral if he had wanted to have any say at all in the Normandy decision. Like all things with Shepard, it was better to commit first and work out the details afterward; things always had a way of working out with him, and things were never so bad as they first seemed. You could always count on him, that crazy bastard.

There was some sound in the temporary confinement. A quick, jabbery series of sounds in a foreign language. Anderson saw a salarian being led away by the guards, his shock lemon skin a stark contrast to the drab grays and neutrals of the prison. The alien was dressed in plain prison issue, and Anderson guessed he had just recently been searched and changed, if his translator unit hadn't been returned to him yet. They were probably still scanning it to make sure that was all it was. Noting Anderson's look, his escort smirked and said, "We picked him up down by Munitions. He said he was lost, took a wrong turn.. that he couldn't read human languages on the signs telling him not to go there."

"Except the rules now state that all of our signs should have standard on them as well." Anderson smirked. "I'm sure it was an _honest_ mistake." He didn't have time for the salarian; it wasn't his business. He flew ships and led men; politics and schemes were not his game.

The guard continued on, and then paused to wait for Anderson. His initial instinct had him gazing into this row of temporary holding tanks, seeing that these were the ones that were soundproofed. This is where Anderson would stow Shepard, anyway. He'd done it before.

"Commander Shepard's down this way, sir," the guard said. "We uh, well, they put him in the brain tank, sir." After seeing the change in Anderson's face, he added, "I don't know why or what for, captain."

"Well, he's coming out. Admiral's orders." The captain kept his voice adamant, but a widening fissure cracked in his confidence. A 'brain tank' was a hardened containment system designed to hold the unpredictable and chaotic force of an unruly biotic. What had happened? Anderson had been thinking that a desk job and a paperwork had made Shepard a little rowdy; perhaps he'd been blowing off steam; hell, maybe he even got in a fight and they put him down here to cool his heels. In that strange way of his, he might have even caused a scene just to prove how unsuited he was to desk jobs and paperwork. He seemed miserable the last time that Anderson saw him; there he was, sluggish, on medication and in dress blues, clearing printer jams and taking calls. Maybe he had just decided to stir things up..

But the _brain tank_? Anderson felt a cold press of fear and even embarrassment; what if Shepard deserved to be down here and Hackett had unwittingly mandated his release? That would look terrible. People were always complaining about favorites and the leniency granted to some biotics..

The corridor opened into a bullpen of sorts, with desks and tables about. Several servicemembers were seated at terminals, typing. One spotted him and saluted, though he had no need to. Doors to the maximum security were sliding at just that instant and beyond them, an officer in blues was emerging from some vault-like portal.

"Captain Anderson," the lieutenant commander said, a mid-thirties fellow with an olive complexion and a mole close to his left eye. His name read Wickliff. "I know the Admiral called, but he didn't speak to me; I was out, involved with the salarian incident earlier. I can't comply with that order at this time."

The guard stopped short of the two men, who now stood very close, and he waited to the side as if unsure what was to proceed. Anderson sized Wickliff up, first, glancing him over, and then he said, "I'd like to know what happened here. Why is Shepard detained?"

"Drunk and disorderly, disturbing the peace, assault on an officer, robbery, resisting arrest, and use of biotic ability with deadly intent."

Anderson moved to go past him. "I'm talking to Shepard."

"You can't go in there, sir." Wickliff bobbed up in front of him.

"The hell I won't," Anderson shot back, and his voice boomed louder than he intended. He was going for 'resolute', but his voice, to him, sounded fierce and angry. Wickliff blinked back; people stopped typing. Anderson felt his palms getting slick; did he go through all of that back at Hackett's office, all of that for nothing?

"It's for your own safety," Wickliff added. "We gave him a sedative, but he's still dangerous."

Anderson's quick mind picked out a detail. "Drunken and disorderly?" he said.

"Yes, sir."

"He'd been drinking. He's got an implant. And you gave him a sedative."

Wickliff worked that through his head, and then he blinked like a man coming awake all at once. "Wait, well, we had to," he said. "Staff Lieutenant Paulson was attacked on level two, his weapon and his wallet stolen. He didn't see the assailant clearly, but the description matched Shepard, and he said he smelled alcohol. When we found Shepard, he was in a location close to the site of the attack. He'd been drinking. He resisted arrest and used his powers to destroy property. Our men could have been seriously hurt!"

"_Were_ any?" Anderson went on autopilot, his mind racing.

"No.. well, no, except for Paulson. He's in stable condition." Seeing the searching look on Anderson's face, he went to regain ground. More smoothly, he said, "The situation was well-handled. My men are well trained for an incident like this."

Still reeling, Anderson said, "You can't just give a sedative to a biotic. Especially if he was as drunk as you say. Do you want to kill him? Do you know how much money they cost?"

Wickliff pressed, "He left us no choice, sir. Sometimes they go bad."

Suddenly disgusted that Wickliff had used the word 'they', and that Anderson had been the first one to do it, the captain shoved past him and headed toward the security doors.

"The admiral can't just wave his hand and let him go free! The admiral isn't above the law! Hackett can't play favorites here." Wickliff was right behind him, and, if suddenly deciding how bad that sounded, he added, "Listen, sir, I don't think the admiral understands the gravity of the situation. My assistant says that he kept interrupting her and didn't even want to hear the whys or wherefores. I in fact tried to call him back but he was in a meeting."

Anderson felt his dream falling apart. Oh, Shepard, you son of a bitch, he thought. No. No. He wasn't going to side against Shepard without hearing his side of the story first. He didn't like Wickliff. Didn't like his face. "The admiral has very important business to attend to," he said. "Business of critical importance. Shepard is a part of this affair, and if you think Admiral Hackett is going to be angry when you heard you countermanded his order, imagine how angry he is going to be if you refuse to let me at least speak to Shepard. I've come a long way to see him, and if he's screwed this all up, he'll hear it from _me_. Now you let me in and shut up."

Lieutenant Commander Wickliff took in a breath and then let loose a sigh. "Very well, Captain," he said. He gave a curt nod to the young soldier that had escorted Anderson so far. "I can't pretend to be important enough to know what sort of business is between Admiral Hackett and yourself, but maybe it's for the best that this blowup happened here on Arcturus instead of out in the field. We all knew Shepard was a time bomb ready to go off... "

********

Wickliff's access card.

A slide key on a chain with his dog tags.

A set of entry codes. And another.

Blast doors. A white hallway. Low ceiling.

Rounded corners. No sharp edges. No glass. Thick plastic instead.

An auto-turret with a red laser eye.

Just before they crossed into the heart of the chambers, Anderson felt the worst of his trepidation; then, strangely, his fear hit a sort of plateau, and the calm of experience overtook him. He heard Shepard's voice, weirdly distorted by the cell barriers. He was, as Anderson suspected, _singing_.

Wickliff had placed special guards to stand watch over the solitary prisoner here. They were in slick black power armor with smoked visors. The flexible plates were designed with flame retardant properties as well as kinetic absorption to withstand strong forces. The shield generators hummed softly. They had no less than three sets of weapons. They were faceless shadows. They were hardened space marines.

For all he had heard about Shepard the legend, Shepard the myth, it was immediately clear that Wickliff knew nothing about Shepard the man. Hardened space marines had no defense against Shepard's power.

Basically what this meant was that as Lt. Cmdr. Wickliff and Capt. Anderson came around the bend, they found prisoner and guards having a good time.

Wickliff was as white as the walls. It was like setting a chameleon on paper. He was struggling for speech, clearly shocked at having found his men-- his _elite_-- laughing and joking with the dangerous psychic they were supposed to be guarding. Space marines loved crazy Shepard. They always did.

One was playing his stun rifle like an air guitar. Another was on the floor cross-legged, drumming on the seat of a chair. The third was doing some kind of slow pump air dance. The fourth was singing along with Shepard, and through the featureless black faceplate speaker came a fetching woman's soprano.

"When they kick in your front door, howwww you gonna come? With your haaaands on your head or on the trigger of your gun?" Shepard was laying on his back in the middle of the cell, nearly nude. He was slapping the floor as he howled, "When the law breaks in, howww you gonna go? Shot down on the pavement, or waiting in death row?"

Suddenly, the air-guitar guard perked up and started flashing 'oh shit-- guys-- oh shit' hand signals and they all scrambled to snap to attention.

"Officer on deck!" the female barked.

Wickliff and the escort were at a complete loss. Anderson felt a moment of zen.

Shepard didn't quit. He was stripped down to his boxers, and he had the same tight haircut as in the field. His hands were beating the floor. He was doing the chorus now. He was facing the wall and couldn't see them; he probably thought it was just Wickliff, because now his yowling took on a truly atrocious tone. The Clash were probably rolling in their graves now.

Anderson looked at Wickliff, and then to the marines who were no doubt hiding crimson faces behind their faceplates. He took in a breath. Like the crack of a whip, like the roar of a lion, the captain's voice rang out, "Commander Shepard! Get on your feet, you sorry bastard!"

The last time he recalled Shepard moving so fast, he'd been nineteen years old and joking with his mates, doing impersonations of Anderson-- unaware who was standing behind him all the while. Almost instantly Shepard snapped to attention. He made a sharp salute and Anderson suddenly didn't know whether he was more angry or amused.

Shepard wasn't one to stay off-guard for too long, and in moments a big shit-eating grin was crossing his face. "Captain Anderson! My hero!"

"Shepard," he growled, "what do you have to say for yourself?"

"Fuck da police!"

"Lieutenant Commander Shepard," sniffed Wickliff, as soon as he got back his voice. He had to say something to reestablish himself as a figure of authority here. "In your last hours as an officer of the Systems Alliance, you'd do well to remember your rank and your manners--"

"I'm not about to start now."

The guards seemed to like that.

"--Captain Anderson has come down here to investigate the matter; don't embarrass yourself any further."

"Nah, it's okay, I don't mind. But how bout I embarrass you. For starters, how bout it when you almost killed me with that sedative?" Shepard folded his arms across his chest. There were purple bruises smudging his ribs and hip. "I _told_ him you can't give dylithimide to biotics, but he was just so excited he couldn't help himself, he's gonna be the one to _kill the beast_. He comes out with a fucking syringe gun with a needle the size of a popsicle. Didn't ask me my side of the story or anything, just starts raving and everything gets black and cold and then.. " he affected this solemn tone of voice, glancing around at the black-clad figures, "then I wake up in the tender company of my brother and sister marines."

Anderson had already begun to believe that this incident was nowhere as serious as Wickliff had initially described; Shepard's reputation often made him seem infinitely more dangerous than he was. The secrecy surrounding the N7 missions always blew events out of proportion, and as well, only the most ruthless decisions and incidents made it to the grape vine. Shepard was ruthless but far from an efficient or cold-hearted killer; in fact, he was sloppy, impatient, jealous, defensive, and often childish.

Long years of experience suggested to Anderson that this story was going to be more stupid than serious, and in any case, the subtle body language and concern of Shepard's guards was more than enough hint that they too thought this was nothing to worry about.

The captain sighed. Nevertheless, he hadn't forgotten the cold moments of fear that he experienced earlier, thinking that John had recklessly destroyed all his chances in some foolish altercation. Therefore he kept his voice a growl of deadly business. "Shepard, let me be frank. I've come a long way, and I've just put a lot on the line for you. It was bad enough that I was forced to come down here to pull you out of the drunk tank, but come to find out, you're here in maximum security biotic containment. Commander Wickliff says you put a man in the medbay."

For a split second he was almost tempted to use Hackett's threat on him; _you'll be lucky if you can be a mall cop after this_. Not a good idea, though, since Shepard lived for flippant ripostes and would undoubtedly sass him back. Anderson wanted to give him a scare.

"I'm going to tell you what's going to happen here," Anderson continued in a menacing tone. "I'm going to ask several questions from the both of you. Wickliff, Shepard, you are not to talk to one another in your replies. Shepard, don't talk to these marines; they are here to do their duty and you know better than to influence them. This is going to be as brief and to the point as possible, and, so help me, Shepard, you'd better have a good story and a rock solid alibi, or I'll just have to find my new XO somewhere else. You can sit here in your boxers for all I care."

And that did the trick. Shepard blinked in surprise. Usually the snaky little bastard could control a situation, taking it over and smiling smugly, or just giving off this aura of cool contempt.

"Now," Anderson continued, so as not to give Shepard a chance to marshal his wits and come up with something slick to say (he always did), "Commander Wickliff,what physical evidence do you have that proves Commander Shepard assaulted Lieutenant Paulson?"

Wickliff took a moment to compose himself. He turned his head slightly as not to look directly at Shepard. "We don't yet have physical evidence at this time," he said, "but--"

"Not good enough," Anderson said. "Who witnessed the attack?"

"It happened in the alley by the dormitory," Wickliff said. "Only Paulson saw him."

"Paulson said it was Shepard?"

Wickliff hesitated. In the meantime, the prisoner decided to gather up his clothes and redress himself. "Lieutenant Paulson isn't conscious and can't be questioned further."

"No. Answer my question. How did Paulson describe his attacker?"

Wickliff said, quietly, but firmly, "He said it was a male in his twenties or thirties, light to medium complexion, close-cut brown hair, a strong, military build. He smelled strongly of liquor."

Shepard broke his silence. He just couldn't keep it in, he was like a hyperactive five year old. "Now even I'm convinced. It's fucking uncanny." His eyes got huge all of a sudden. No wonder people said he looked crazy. "A young, aggressive, muscular brown-haired man? My God. On Arcturus Station? But there's not just one! There's thousands! Holy shit, we're overrun. Get to the escape pods, Anderson! Save yourself!" He put his hand up against the fiberglass. "I will always be with you!"

"Shepard, be quiet!" Anderson barked. _Don't smile, don't encourage him_."You got yourself into this mess! If you weren't such an antagonizing son of a bitch with a bad reputation, nobody would suspect you. Now you keep quiet-- it's not your turn yet."

"I'm just pointing out how ridiculous his accusations are," Shepard replied, putting an arm through the sleeve of his rumpled dress blues. He sounded sulky now. He clearly wanted to rip the stuffing out of Wickliff's arguments, and while Anderson was sorely tempted to let him, the captain had to remain in control of the situation.

"Commander Wickliff," Anderson said, "you are failing to convince me that Shepard has attacked Lieutenant Paulson. Do you have anything else to add that might lend a ring of truth to these accusations?"

Wickliff took a moment to compose himself; the ridicule was shredding his confidence, and Anderson had affected his most serious tone. Then, from some hidden reserve, Wickliff burst forth, "Sir, Paulson and Shepard were recently involved in a heated argument in the office. Several witnesses have told me so. That is what led me to suspect Shepard in the first place. He was also off his shift at the time of the attack and therefore had the time, opportunity, and motive to direct the attack. The physical description is a bit vague by itself, that's true," he said, his tone growing stronger, "but it does match Shepard and all of this together was enough to bring him in for questioning at least. He was found drunk-- the assailant had smelled strongly of liquor-- and he resisted arrest. He is also known to be a dangerous biotic and safety precautions had to be taken. I am responsible for the safety of my men."

Anderson raised an eyebrow. "That's better, Commander Wickliff," he said. He turned from the prison officer in his sharp dress blues to Shepard, who was still putting his clothes back on, looking like the crazy bastard he was. "Shepard," he began. "Were you arguing with Lieutenant Paulson recently?"

"Yeah, I argue with him all the time." Shepard looked sour, making a face.

"What was the nature of your argument?"

"Paulson was being a little punk."

"_Shepard_."

He flinched behind the fiberglass. "Film trivia," he said.

"You were having a heated argument over film trivia?"

"No. Yeah. We were just arguing over film trivia, and he wouldn't admit he was wrong, trying to impress Sally Rottencrotch from Accounting." As if he couldn't believe what an idiot Paulson was, Shepard went on, in an irritated tone, "He kept saying Chastity Walken was in a black comedy with that Bollywood whatshername, but they were 70 years apart. I said look it up on EMDB and he did. Then he got all shitty about it and accused me of decking some broad in the face. Had nothing to do with what we were talking about. I guess some people would say I was yelling, but they're timid shut-ins."

Anderson narrowed his eyes. "From now on, Shepard, your responses are to be as succinct as possible. Nod if you understand."

He did.

"Where were you at the time of the attack?"

"I was under the desk in Captain Ewan's office, drinking his secret liquor stash."

"Captain _Ewan_ doesn't have a secret liquor stash," Wickliff broke in.

"Not now, at any rate."

"Did anyone see you?" Anderson asked. "Can anyone corroborate this?"

"Nobody saw me in Ewan's office." Shepard came up to the fiberglass, frowning now, not bothering to button up his dress blues. His look was angry; he could be vicious at the failings of others. "I did it on the sly, after my shift was done. I wanted to teach him a lesson for being such a hypocrite. He was drinking on the job, making mistakes! He really fucked up last week and--"

"Shepard, this isn't about Ewan. Can anyone, or anything, prove that you were in there?"

The vanguard gave a mean snort of a laugh. "I'm N7, remember? Nobody saw me at Ewan's desk." Then his sneer curdled into something of a smirk. "But I did run into Tasha Veracruz soon after that and she can vouch for me. There's no way I could have been talking to her at the office and then two minutes later been out there kicking the shit out of Paulson by the dorms. There's no time to get so far so quick, unless there's a fucking mass relay in the fourth floor womens bathroom and I didn't see one."

Anderson and Wickliff glanced at one another. "You were in the ladies' head?" Anderson said, slowly.

The marines were unfazed by this revelation-- probably having heard it, talking with him all the while before-- and they way they leaned in and nodded slightly suggested their support for Shepard and their belief in his innocence.

"Yeah. My rock solid alibi. I drank up all Ewan's hooch, had to piss, so I ducked into the head and didn't even notice the sign on the door." Shepard shrugged. "I'm going to preserve the feminine mystique and not tell you about anything I saw in there, but needless to say, I was splashing water on my face and got to realizing something was off. Just then Tasha Veracruz comes in and is all like, 'oh my god, John, you're a pervert' and I'm like, 'no you'. I'm kind of drunk and strung-out, and wanting to fight. Tasha's a bitch. She's always picking fights with me, trying to push my buttons. At least she's the only one who's got the balls to. Anyway she's like, 'Johnny you god-damn chip-headed psycho, what in the hell is wrong with your crazy ass.' She was trying to tell me I was in the wrong head and I kept trying to tell her to get the fuck out, we must have been arguing for a couple minutes. Then she goes to the wall and thumps the rag machine to make her final argument. 'Then what's this, you crazy shit,' she says, 'what's this doing in the men's room, what do you need this for' and by that time I was getting kind of sleepy and cranky and sick of arguing with her, but I wasn't going to admit I was wrong. _Screw_ that bitch, I'm not giving her the satisfaction. So I played it off like a tough guy. I went over and slid my card and bought a feminine product or whatever, I don't know what the hell it was, I said, 'I don't know what the fuck you're talking about, freak,' put it behind my ear like a cigarette, told her, 'sayonara, _sucker_' and walked out. Come to think of it that was completely stupid and didn't really make any sense, but anyway, Ewan's hooch was like 5000 proof and this whole episode is really retarded and didn't work out the way I wanted." Shepard finally stopped to breathe, and affected his cool, superior tone. "_Nevertheless_, it remains that my alibi is rock solid. Get Tasha Veracruz or any of her ten million girlfriends on the line right now. Come to think of it you could probably run my slide card and the account will tell you the date and time I used the dispenser thing. Although I did argue with Paulson, although Paulson's a sniveling little bitch-ass, I didn't rock his face because I was too busy on the other side of the station sabotaging my commander's secret stash, buying tampons and being drunk. He's _lucky_."

Seeing as neither officer knew how to respond to what had just been said, Shepard glanced between the both of them, put his hands on his hips, and announced, "So there you have it, gentlemen. You could have just asked, Wickliff. Now somebody let me out because I haven't seen Anderson in ages and I heard," he cracked a confident smile, looking a little sleazy in his unbuttoned and untucked blues with chest hair and bruises showing through, "that somebody needs an XO."

********

Against the stony silence of the lift, Shepard said, "So, well, what ship? A frigate, right? Is it the _Sekigahara_?"

Still trying to decide if he was angry or not, Anderson played his cards close to his chest. "We will be discussing that at a time and place of my choosing," he said, and he liked how that sounded. It sounded ominous.

It worked. Shepard had that little alarmed flicker in his eye. "You're not angry with me, are you, cap'n?" he said. "Not BS like that. That's nothing, screw those guys."

"Shepard. I'm concerned about your behavior."

This was small potatoes to him, then, all of a sudden. "Look. I was trying to teach Ewan a lesson. He's my superior officer, but I can't respect him like I respected you. When I found out he was drinking on the job, making stupid mistakes, I couldn't stand how critical he was of everybody else. So I thought I'd prank him a little, make him afraid that somebody knew his secret. It was all for the best."

Anderson sighed.

Shepard went on, and his eyes went warmer, as though he was going to invite Anderson in on something. "You know what he did? On our supply request form, he was supposed to type in the number code of the item requested, but he must have just stopped trying that day. Tasha tried to tell him it wasn't 500 units of item no. 31191289C, it was 500 units of 31191298V. Nine eight V, not eight nine C. Anyway he told her not to correct him anymore and not to bother him in his office again. He made me initial everything, and then two weeks later we get this weird box from Nebraska."

Anderson hid his smile by busying himself with leaving the lift and holding open the doors for a group of gentlemen now entering it. They were all in sharp suits, holding briefcases, wearing sunglasses.

"Anyway, I cut open the box, and instead of 500 units of Sirta Foundation Medi-Singles, it's 500 units of teriyaki beef jerky. That's what pissed me off about Ewan. He's a blustering ass and now we have to wait for the medigel order to come back. Our guys need that stuff. What the fuck is the squad medic supposed to tell his guys when they're pinned down and fading fast. Hey guys, snap into a slim jim?"

"I suppose I'm going to have to ask what happened to the 500 units of teriyaki beef jerky." Anderson was leading him away from the elevators and into the crush of people moving through the station.

Shepard waved his hand. "I fixed it. Called personnel, explained the mix-up, and told them to cancel my extra rations allowance til the jerky ran out. Somebody should put it to good use, I guess."

"A true patriot," Anderson intoned, rolling his eyes. "What am I going to do with you, Shepard?" He now turned to look at him, and Shepard grinned a goblinish little grin, now that he sensed he was working his way back into the captain's good graces.

"You could make me your XO."

"Shepard, before I tell you anything-- if I allow this, if this happens-- I need to know that I can trust you. We have been in many battles together, and I trust you with my life. However, I don't know I can trust you with hard, tedious work, and with my reputation. Don't smile, it's true. You may say you don't care what people think about you, but being the executive officer is entirely different than leading men directly into battle. Words, behavior, reputation, they are all critical. You are very intelligent, Shepard.. but you do bad things when you get bored, and you don't like it when things won't go your way."

"I think you mean, I make things go my way." They were drawing some glances from the crowd as they walked through, what with Anderson and his captain's bars, and Shepard half-dressed in his own sloppy blues, looking disheveled, yet still striking. He was a very fine looking young man, and unfortunately, he knew it.

Arcturus Station held the primary function of a military base, but it also seated the Parliament and the civilian population was more than just support. Everywhere you looked, people were going on about their business, some of them in various uniforms of military service, others dressed in the clothes of civilians or spacers. There were even a few aliens to be seen, visitors on political business or tourist adventures. Some Turians were very interested in traveling to Earth.

A pair of peacekeeping drones were hovering past them now. Although they had the same body style of the military drones, they were painted differently and marked as such. They did not bear weaponry, but they were equipped with strobe lights in their laser eye. Aggressors were pacified with the use of these lights, which were disorienting-- or 'cool'. A year ago it was heard around the station that some navy brats had kidnapped one of the 'dazzler drones' and took it to a party.

Anderson took in a breath, and began again, "John, today I sat with Admiral Hackett himself, discussing your future. Donnell Udina was also there. Ambassador Udina, who represents all humanity's billions to the races of the council. Do you know what came up? Do you know what I had to defend you against?"

"I can't say, sir, there are always jealous liars and superstitious fools." Of course he should think it some slight against being a biotic; he was always sensitive about that. Then, in a lofty tone, he added, "I think my record speaks for itself."

"Shepard, when I was trying to convince them of just how clever and dedicated you are, and how proud you make me, and how you were the best man for the job, Udina breaks in and brings up some incident where you allegedly assaulted an officer's wife. At their own party." Anderson hadn't meant to speak as loud as he did, but the last two sentences came out on a higher and higher note of exasperation. "You made me lose credibility."

An old lady nearby gave them a pointed look in passing.

Shepard frowned. "I don't know about that, sir," he said. "That's hearsay."

"Shepard. See. This is what I'm talking about. You give off this image of being unpredictable, irresponsible!"

"Crazy, you mean? Cuckoo?"

"Well, then. Yes."

"Look, I did do it, okay," Shepard whined, "but I don't want to talk about it and I don't have to justify it to anyone. It's no business of anyone else's." He firmed up his tone and went on, more reasonably, "I'm sorry the ambassador brought that up. I didn't do it because I was crazy. I had my reasons."

"Well, what?" Anderson threw up his hands.

Shepard shook his head. "I can't say, sir."

"Suppose that another ship hails us and her husband is on it. The mission is crucial and we have to work together. The voice of Commander Fitzgerald Danvers comes over the comm link. How are you going to interact? Like gentlemen? Like officers? What are you going to do down there in the CIC-- tell him, 'sayonara, sucker' and snap into a slim jim?"

Shepard broke out into a grin, despite himself. "Cap'n, I think I love you."

"Shut up, Shepard, we've got a policy."

This made Shepard laugh, and Anderson frowned; he didn't want to joke with him like old times, he was trying to sound authoritative here, but damn! it was difficult. "Listen, sir," Shepard said, glancing away across the station. "It isn't going to cause any problems. It hasn't yet, has it? You don't think that's strange? I got tossed in jedi jail for some bs that Wickliff couldn't even prove, but that other incident, that shall not be named, had a whole party of witnesses! Danvers hasn't called me out and he's always fought me over everything, back at the academy. His wife hasn't filed a single report or made any motion to. She just complains and plays the victim for the sympathy, but strangely, she won't let anyone investigate the matter. She deserved it, cap'n, and she knows it. Danvers knows it. And I think a lot of people know it or the rumors just wouldn't be as popular as they are. Let's leave it at that."

Anderson told Shepard, "We live in a strange little world of our own in the Navy. We work hard. We play hard. But not everyone understands that. Hackett was a young man once, and don't ever believe that he never misbehaved. Udina comes from a different world entirely, the world of diplomacy and the Council, where every word matters, every look, every insinuation."

"Well, be that as it may, sir," Shepard replied, "but one of those two men sends me paychecks and teriyaki beef jerky, and it ain't Udina. I'm out here on Arcturus and not out there on the Citadel. I don't try to tell him how to be a conniving twat, so he has no right to judge anything I do as a crazy lab experiment."

Anderson shook his head. "You know. I missed lunch today. Let's have the usual."

********

"_That Normandy_?" For once, Shepard was too excited to eat. He had left off his curry and was staring expectantly at Anderson, wiping his mouth with a napkin, leaning in, grinning. Anderson thought that perhaps he should have waited for Shepard to eat a little more before he told him the news, or what of it that he wanted to tell Shepard at this time.

They were seated at a private balcony table at their usual haunt, though they hadn't been here in nearly a year, since Shepard had been rotated into paperwork. Though Anderson did visit him when on business several months ago, Shepard's medication made him sluggish and uninterested in food.

"Yes, that one. You saw the documentary, didn't you?"

"You bet. Except I screwed up the sound options and it was all in Russian or something, but still I understood when the turian engineers got on and started talking. Is it just going to be Alliance?"

The captain tried to hide his smile. He was beginning to feel again that he had made the right decision. "I don't know yet, Shepard. I didn't know until recently that she would be mine."

"You should have told me earlier." Shepard grinned.

Anderson felt an unexpected stab of guilt, then. How to tell Shepard he was not the original choice? Best not to say anything about it. Shepard could be intensely jealous, and although he always declared that he didn't care what other people thought, there was a part of him that resented being seen as a dangerous screw-up. Now, it seemed, his entire reputation was defined by it: the Butcher of Torfan. How he would have hated it if it were him stuck here indefinitely on Arcturus and it were the gallant Hero of the Blitz who stood in the CIC before the galaxy map.

But Shepard didn't notice the pause, going on about the configuration of Turian ships and how it influenced the Normandy's design. He was forming some sort of model with his utensils on the table as he went on-- and on, if Anderson didn't stop him.

"Doctor Chakwas will also be joining us," he said. "I have asked her and she has accepted. She hopes you're doing well and she says she'll be bringing along some special supplies just for you."

"I thought she was going to retire."

"She always says so, but she never will. She loves the adventure."

"I miss her. Very dry sense of humor, and the troops love her, she's so good with them. It wasn't until I had some bad docs that I realized what kind of a treasure she really is." After a moment, Shepard said suddenly, "You know, those kids today, the ones posted to me in the brig? I got to talking to them and I was just thinking, I'm really impressed by this new batch of kids, they're all right. That one used to be stationed on Amaterasu and he was telling me.. "

For a moment, Anderson ate silently in contemplation, looking out from their 'outdoor' balcony to the rest of the station. From here he could see the skies beyond, as well. Named for the titan goddess and seer of the future, the planet Themis held the torus-shaped station in comfortable orbit. The view of her was incredible at this time, as she was a gas giant with cold and swirling storms upon her surface. Not too far away from the jovian world was the mass relay of this dying system, the second that humanity discovered; its matching relay had been the one discovered beyond Pluto.

"I'm also assigning you a biotic for your lieutenant," Anderson said, deciding to get down to it. "Kaidan Alenko, a sentinel. He has a degree in engineering. He's very capable and easy to work with. If you saw the documentary, he was the one who explained how the onboard systems worked. I've met him and I was impressed."

John wasn't going to take this well, just as Anderson had suspected. "You're giving me a babysitter."

"Shepard, don't fight me. You know you're a rotten son of a bitch some of the time."

"You know I don't get along with other biotics."

"I know, and that's got to change. Who else is going to understand you? I know it hurts you that people fear you for what you are, and that part isn't your fault, at least. He won't think you're a freak or a mutant. He has experience in this kind of thing. So there you are. I'm giving you a fellow mutant. You can be freaks together."

"But I thought we had a policy."

Anderson fought a grin. "Stop being a shit, Shepard. Maybe you'll learn something. He's older than you are, and in fact, he's one of the first known cases from the Singapore incident. He's an L2. I don't need to tell you how rare that is."

Shepard scowled. He probably didn't want to be told about a wonderful, well-adjusted biotic that was so neat, a public relations wiz, well-loved and adored by all. Not when Shepard was known for what he was known for. Even if was against the batarians. And Major Kyle's ravings had not helped at all..

"Anyway. I think it's time you had an amp again, and I've already made the arrangements. You're scheduled tomorrow morning. Pack all of your essentials tonight, and have all your affairs taken care of by tomorrow. I want you rested after the amp is in. I've checked all your records and double-checked with the doctors. You're not still taking any medications?"

"No, I didn't need that shit."

"I didn't think so either. So everything else seems good. It is, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I'm good," Shepard skulked.

"Then.. good." Weary of the day's work, and its sudden ups and downs, Anderson made his voice warm, saying, "You know, Shepard, you're like a son to me."

"The hunch-backed, fanged, drooling son you keep in the attic."

In exactly the same tone, Anderson continued pleasantly,"Yes, the one that me and my real family never talk about." He smiled when Shepard began to smile again.

"Even when you hear baleful noises in the night, and the sound of _chains_."

"Even when the neighbors see something scuttling past the attic window."

"But every so often you creep up the stairs with a bucket of fish heads."

"And a list of _names_. Don't fuck this up, Johnny, you have no idea what's at stake, here."

Shepard grinned at him. "You can count on me, cap'n."


	3. Chapter 3

His alarm went off at 0415 Standard and the local radio station began to play. Without remembering that he had specifically disabled the function, Kaidan tried pressing the Sleep button to no avail. The omni-tool cruelly disobeyed his commands, and so he just groaned and slid his left arm under the pillow to muffle it.

"This is WKAR going into a non-stop rock block up ahead," the VI DJ was saying in her pleasant voice.

Kaidan rolled out of his rack, stretched, and pushed out some push-ups while the VI DJ read out advertisements and announcements for Arcturus Station. His roommate snored on, oblivious to anything less than a full scale batarian assault and even then it was debatable. Until the klaxons sounded, Lt. Panhwar had slept through the first shots of the Aihara Engagement; he had responded to Captain Donnelly's "get out of that rack, son" with "five more minutes, mom." This quote was now somewhat famous on Arcturus and Lt. Moreau sometimes used it as a hilarious catchphrase. Kaidan thought about waking Panhwar up to say bye, but they had already made their farewells with all the guys at Moira's last night and from the way things went, Yusaf needed all the rest he could get.

Nevertheless, Kaidan left him a gift by his head-- a Women of the Elcor wall calendar and also the number of that girl from last night. Not his type at all but maybe Yusaf might like her, that is if he managed to resist the charms of Miss July.

His bed made and his duffelbag prepacked, Kaidan scooped up his fatigues and went to shower and shave for the last time in East Dormitory. He wondered if he was normally supposed to be in blues for this sort of thing, but he expected to be crawling around under workstations half the day to make one last check of the Normandy's systems. Something told him though that Anderson wouldn't be one of those captains

He had his omni-tool check his messages as he brushed his teeth. Various voices informed him various things: his sister, niece and nephew loved him and wished him well; his mother loved him and missed him and saw him on the documentary and thought her baby looked so handsome and grown up. Also when is he going bring home a nice girl?

His father was proud of him, that wily old Infiltrator, but he also had some words of advice. The same ones, actually, that he always gave out: beware of salarians. "Dey are behind yeverythink, Kaidan, yeverythink!! You cannot trust dem-- never shleep." He also informed Kaidan to "be careful wis dem space goils, malchik.. alwez use brotection."

His sister again: she wanted to know if Kaidan could score her a toy model of the Normandy for her desk at work. The Millennium Falcon was getting lonely.

His mother again: what happened to that nice girl Stacy Fujimora? (it's okay if she's Chinese)

A work-related message, finally, (thank God), saying that all was good and they expected him down on the docks by 0700, 0715 at the latest.

A message from Adams: hpy lanch day! whn u comng 2 nrmdy ?

From Joker: "Hey Graceland, pull your blanky over your head and hug that teddy tight, cause we got our XO and it's John motherfuckin' Shepard. You might wanna wear a frumpy sweater and your fat pants or somethin dude, just saying."

And from.. oh God, Svetlana?

"I HOPE YOU DIE ALONE IN BITTER COLD OF SPACE. NOBODY LOVES YOU. NOBODY. NOT EVEN YOUR MOTHER SHE HATES YOU. YOU RUIN HER LIFE."

Ahhh, Svetlana. He had thought there was something suspicious about the cool and civil way that she had accepted their breakup a month ago. Although the Normandy's departure was an established fact between them from the beginning, he had wondered previously if she shared any regrets.

"BROBABLY YOU ARE GAY ANYWAY. BEEG GAY. BUT NOT EVEN GAY BOY EWILL LOVE YOU BECAUSE YOU ARE TOO BORINK. DEY ARE LIKE WHAT YAWN DON'T EVEN TALK TO ME BORINK BOY. GO. SHOO. EGET OUT. WE ARE TOO COOL HERE WIS OUR CRAZY HAIR AND DRUGS. GO READ YOUR BOOK NERD BOY. YOU ARE NOT COOL ENOUGH FOR TO BE GAY."

Kaidan smiled as he rinsed his toothbrush in the sink. He was going to miss her and her wild ways, her loud, ranting voice, the knife she kept under her pillow, and the terrible, unspeakable things they did to each other. He had once thought he wanted a shy and bookish girl, but it had been women like Svetlana and her predecessors who had proved him utterly wrong.

"I HATE YOU KAIDAN ALENKO. I HATE YOU I WISH I NEVER METS YOU. BUT I DON'T NEED YOU. I AM TO FIYIND REAL MANS. REAL MANS WHAT KNOW FOR TO TREAT WOMENS. YOU JUST LIKE YOUR SPACE MARINE BUDDIES. GO ON. YOU TINK YOU ARE TOUGH WIS YOUR GUN AND YOUR GRENADE LIKE TO MAKE UP FOR PENIS WHICH IS NOT YEXISTINK. HA YOU GO ON. YOU GO ON YOUR BEEG SHIP FULL OF MANS AND UGLY GIRLS WIS FACE LIKE HORSE ANIMAL. BROBABLY HA-- message limit reached."

He was really going to miss her. At the same time, he felt a warm glow of satisfaction; he had reached her after all and her feelings had been genuine. He hoped she would be happy and that she would find a good man. Or lots of mans, whatever. Godspeed, Svetlana.

New message: "BROBABLY HAS DISEASE DEM SPACE GOILS. AND YALSO DO YOU KNOW WHAT?"

Kaidan clicked it off when he heard a toilet flush.

Ping Zheng whoaed as he came out of the stall. "You banged Svetlana Petroff?"

With a none-of-your-business kind of glance, Kaidan said, "Good morning, Ping.. I didn't know you were there."

Ping laughed. "You got told, comrade."

Kaidan shook his head, smirked a little, and started to pull on his fatigues.

"Man, so is today going to be hell, or what?" Ping went on, making a face. "I've got security detail in an hour and if anything goes wrong, it's off with our heads. Navy, Parliament, representatives from Earth, and hell, turians. Not to mention all the spectators and busy-bodies."

Glad to change the subject, and honestly curious about the answer, Kaidan said,"I heard they picked up a salarian the other day. Found him down near munitions. What was that all about?"

"Aw, man, he was just a mixed-up tourist. But for a couple hours we were all on edge about it. They threw him in the brig for awhile and the suits came to talk to him, but he checked out all right. I guess he just picked the wrong time to go and get stupid. We're all biting our nails for the Normandy's launch."

"Appreciate the concern, but it'll all go smoothly." Kaidan leaned on the counter as he stepped into his boots. He flashed Ping a smile. "We're all professionals. We've trained for this."

"I d'know, man. Is it true about Shepard? Is he going on your ship?"

He must have heard Joker. "I don't know yet. Sometimes I can't tell if Moreau is messing with me or not. Odd to have a last minute change like that, but who knows?"

"Well, be careful, man. I've heard about him. He gives you guys a bad reputation."

Kaidan shrugged it off. What was he supposed to say to that? "I'll trust Anderson's judgment, if it's even true. I didn't think he was even here. Last I heard he was in some kind of medical treatment."

"Naw.. he's here on Arcturus. Put a guy in the hospital the other day, didn't you know?"

Kaidan seemed to remember something about that now, from last night, but he wasn't so sure what you could believe when everyone was in their cups. "I heard he killed some guy, actually," he said, as he laced up his boots. "Over an argument about vid trivia."

"No. Just paralyzed."

"He's also controlled by the turians. I heard that too. They drive him to kill."

"Paralyzed from the head down. I hear the guy talks in blinks now. In blinks."

"But when he's not doing punching women or eating babies, he does paperwork in processing. I heard that too and that's the one that scares me most of all, come to think of it."

"Go ahead and mock me, LT."

"Already underway. Not personal, Ping, I just don't put too much stock in gossip. Or messages from Moreau. I wasn't going to say anything, but the last time Joker had 'special information' to show me, he called me into the comm room and put up a hanar skin flick." Kaidan tied off his boots and stood. "There are some things in life that you see.. that you wish you could un-see."

Ping was cackling. "Aw man."

"Good luck with today, Ping. Stay vigilant, but enjoy the show."

"Hey, well, you too, man. We're all jealous! Except for the thing about Shep if that's true, that is really going to suck."

After Kaidan shook his hand and slapped him on the shoulder, he made his way out with his duffel bag.

Ping called behind him, "Remember, he smells fear!"

*******

The truth was that Kaidan wasn't very surprised about all the gossip. Ever since they learned that David Anderson was assuming captaincy of the ship, the rumors began to fly around that John Shepard was going to be on the Normandy. As if Anderson couldn't do anything without him, like the Good Cop needing the Bad. Personally, Kaidan believed that the Hero of the Blitz was in talks to come to the Normandy; it seemed only natural that the place of such a hero was here on humanity's newest and most prestigious vessel.

Yet nothing was said openly about this. There was also the fact that such a hero might not have an interest in prestige or show business, and that he might prefer to put his boots on the ground somewhere instead. Kaidan sometimes wondered if he'd been asked, but nothing official was said, and in any case, it was no longer possible for him to join the Normandy. He had his twenty-one guns, his flag, and his flyover; Alenko was saddened when he had heard on the news. Earth had truly lost a treasure. It was rare to find someone who overcame such a troubled and crime-ridden past to become such a good and honest hero.

Although he had concluded most of his affairs aboard Arcturus Station, Kaidan had one last little thing to take care of. He was still cycling quietly through his messages-- none too important, "BRING A SWEATER, HONEY, SPACE IS COLD"-- as he made his way to the base post office. He had a letter and a package bound for Earth, and he hoped it wouldn't take more than two months to get there.

In order to inform the public about (some of) the Normandy's features, perhaps to justify to the taxpayers the enormous cost of the vessel, the Alliance Navy had produced a documentary for the History Channel for "Future Week". Camera crews were allowed aboard to film (some of) the components and Navy personnel were interviewed about her design.

Kaidan had actually liked the documentary in its final state. The host introduced the Normandy with the battle that was her namesake; it was chilling to see the show open without credits, just the grainy, actual footage from centuries ago, as American soldiers leapt out of the amphibious carriers. Kaidan always wondered what was going through those mens' minds so long ago.

Then, of course, the host began to explain the Turian influence of the ship. This was considered by some to be controversial, though it only made sense to Kaidan, if the ship was also partly funded by the Council. Thinking ahead and looking at the big picture, Kaidan suspected that such an advanced stealth ship would be necessary if they ever came to war with Terminus System. And not even for that, if the Council just wanted a proven stealth ship type to spy on Terminus worlds; the batarians were notoriously paranoid and closed off. Maybe the Normandy would even be charged with some dashing rescue mission.

Kaidan had liked working with the turian engineers, some of them at least. The youngest one wasn't very good at what he did, to be honest, and he was always mixing up the names of components. However, he knew English and seemed to know how to communicate without his translator. Out of all the turians, that one turian engineer would have really gone a long way to charm a human audience if they had asked him to come on and talk in a major human language. That was always a surprise and always a pleasure.

Joker had been his great, usual self, as funny as always. They almost made him shave and take off his cap for his part of the interview, but a wise man realized that was just part of his appeal. Kaidan felt sorry for Chief Adams, who was suprisingly shy about being in front of the camera and he blushed nearly the entire time. Kaidan himself had been asked to explain the onboard systems, and he was just glad that he was not asked too many questions about being a biotic. What he was had no bearing on his technical role aboard the Normandy; being part of the ground team was another matter, and was not brought up. In any event, Kaidan was glad to explain the Normandy to the people of Earth; he was excited and honored to be a part of her crew and to help work diagnostics these several months.

He was also asked to provide the language dubbing for Russian language speakers on Earth, and that is why, in a roundabout way, he came to be mailing a package just before he left for his ship. Just last week, Kaidan received a message from a boy on Earth who lived in Belarus. In very serious but very broken and adorable English, he informed Kaidan that he saw him on the documentary and wanted to be a spaceman just like him when he grew up. Kaidan was moved by this letter, because he, too, was once a small nerdy boy obsessed with space. Kaidan also didn't appreciate how this letter was snatched away by the guys and read back to him in funny voices. However, he had to admit that Stacy Fujimora was absolutely hilarious in her terrible mockery of Kaidan.

And so, he wrote a letter back to the boy, in both English and in Russian, and he even enclosed a toy ship model of the Normandy. Of course Kaidan's sister had to have one of her very own, now, and his nephew probably required a replacement by this time. His niece was very likely to have flushed it or fed it to the dog by now. That little one was trouble.

As Kaidan approached the dockworks, he could see the swarm of guards that would only intensify as the day wore on. For the past week or two, they had been dragging out barricades and deploying drones in preparation for the Normandy's official launch. Kaidan sometimes wondered if they should have publicized it, but the christening and the commissioning of a vessel was a strong tradition in the service, ever since the days of sail. Kaidan could see that the cam crews were already setting up their equipment, though he was glad they were sequestered off to the side.

As he made his way through the checkpoints, Kaidan fell in with one of the turians coming aboard. They got to talking as they had to swipe their IDs, wait, and repeat at the next section.

"Need a hand?" Kaidan had finally switched his translator on and asked, seeing that the turian was pulling a couple of cases with him, a tall one and two smaller ones up on it. Tech stuff, probably. He knew this engineer.

"Thank you, but no," the turian replied. He had blue smudges on his face, the marks of a colony that Kaidan didn't know and always meant to look up. The Codex had everything. "I see you already have a bag of your own to carry."

"It's no problem, I wouldn't mind at all." Feeling playful, and because he had worked with this turian, Kaidan slid the bag off his shoulder and let it levitate.

This made the turian laugh, and his little green eyes glinted. "Not bad," he said. "Not bad at all. Do you find it more difficult to lift things and hold them, or to throw them? I always wondered what it would be like."

Kaidan pulled the bag's strap back over its shoulder, and felt gravity tug it down again. "It depends," he answered. "Sometimes it's easier to manipulate objects that I'm more familiar with. We used to practice with everyday objects, cups, paper, books, things like that, so it's second nature to me."

"You are what they call a sentinel, isn't that right? I've never asked you, but I meant to, you know. I've seen that amp on the back of your head."

"I had a degree in engineering before I became an officer. I thought I might want to be an engineer.. but it wasn't for me. Not all the way. I wanted adventure."

The turian's eyes glinted again with good humor. "Don't we all?" he said. "I wanted to be in the military, to follow in my father's footsteps. Didn't work out."

Kaidan was surprised that a turian might admit something like that so freely, but he did seem at peace with his place in life, and he had a quiet confidence that Kaidan always liked. "I'm sorry to hear that, but I hope things will work out for you."

"Yes, me too. I am excited to be on board the Normandy on the day of its launch. Do you know, I have heard that your military is bringing an honor guard of soldiers in historic uniforms." His mandibles gave a pulse. "From Operation Overlord. The Invasion of Normandy."

"I'm surprised you know about that."

"Oh, I was just reading about it. We turians like things like that. Tradition. I liked it on the documentary as well. Very good, but it should have talked more about the weapons systems. It seems Earth's audience doesn't like to hear about those things so much."

Kaidan smiled. "Can I ask you a question? How did you learn English? There's got to be a story there."

"Who says I do?"

"I saw you reading from one of the consoles during a break, one time. You were reading an article in English and I saw you clicking through things without needing a translator. It looked like you understood."

The turian made a 'you got me' kind of a shrug. "I do understand. Don't tell the other turians," he joked. "It isn't much of a story. I wanted to learn, so I did. It took awhile, but when I set my mind to something, I get it done."

"I'm Kaidan, by the way. Kaidan Alenko. I don't know that I ever got your name when you were here with us." He put out his hand, and the turian shook it.

"Nicholas," he said.

Kaidan smiled. "A traditional turian name, no doubt."

"Ha ha. That's my human name, just for you. Did you ever get a turian one, from your school?" Seeing Kaidan's moment of surprise, the turian added, "You must have had your lessons from a turian, if you are a biotic and the age that you are. You must be one of the very first."

"You're very perceptive," Kaidan told him. "I don't think I ever had a turian name, but I was sometimes called a certain turian word, but I won't repeat that to you." He smiled.

'Nicholas' seemed to like that. He tilted his left arm and pushed back his sleeve, touching a button on his omni-tool and then a tab on the collar of his work clothes. The translator was off. "My teacher was an old man, a very crabby man," he told Kaidan, in English, speaking with an effort to enunciate. "He had no patience for mistakes. No mercy. He would tell me, 'Nick, you are a big, stupid dinosaur, and there is no hope for you. You are wasting your credits.'"

Kaidan was enjoying this easy conversation. Truth be told, he harbored no resentment toward the turians, not for the First Contact War and not for BAaT. He hated Vyrnnus for who he was, not what he was; he hated that kind of personality, sadistic and petty, and he had encountered that personality in people of all races. Just as he appreciated kindness and interesting conversation from all walks of life. "Was he proud of your accomplishments, in the end? You're very good. I know some sounds are difficult to make."

"He was dead." Realizing that that sounded ominous, 'Nicholas' continued, "He was an old man, as I said. I think though that he would not have been surprised. His method was very good. He knew that. It is the way things should be." Then he clicked his translator back on, and added, "It is easier for me to read, now that I know. I think you humans are an interesting species.. with an interesting place in the galaxy."

"I guess we're still trying to find that out. Before we learned about anyone else, we thought our place.. well, a lot of us, we thought our place was to head to the stars, to forge new frontiers. That kind of thing."

"I find that very interesting. Our own age of discovery ended long, long ago. Not very much survives from that era. How refreshing to find such energy. Naivete, maybe."

"I'd like to call it optimism. Some of us still have high hopes for the future."

"I'm not normally prone to such a thing," the turian admitted, "but I think I have a good feeling about today. After you, lieutenant."

They walked together up the boarding ramp, where the Normandy waited, glowing with her fresh coat of paint.

*******

"So imagine you're Bob the Batarian, chillin' in your shitty little hole, hitting your slave, whatever, just minding your own business, and you hear the hugest goddam boom of your life."

"And there's all this smoke and fire!"

"Shut up, man, I'm tellin' it. And anyway, your ears are ringing, your nasty little eyes are all watering, your slave's all choking on its chain, and out of the smoke and the fire.. "

"He was ass naked!"

Jenkins balled up his hat and threw it at Fredericks They were all hanging out in the mess, some drinking coffee, some cleaning weapons. "Shut up, dude. Anyway, out of the smoke and the fire comes our guy Shepard, and yes, ladies and gents, he's bare-ass naked, blood coming out of his ears and his eyes, and he's got this gigantic bato axe gripped in both hands..."

"A spectacle that we will all be personally witnessing tonight, while we are helpless in the dark of space," bridge officer Xuan announced cheerfully. She had come downstairs into the mess to get her coffee.

Fredericks saluted her and grinned to the others. "Instead of breaking the champagne over the nose," he said,"I think they ought to give it to Shep, and he breaks it over a politician's head."

"Ta-daaaa!" Jenkins struck a pose.

Fredericks laughed. "And then he's like, 'And now I'm gonna do this turian.'"

"Anyway," Xuan put in, "I hope this Shepard thing is just scuttlebutt. We've already got Pressly. What would Anderson need Shepard for?"

"To rule the galaxy as father, and son," Joker said. He was leaning on his crutches, drinking coffee out of the side of his mouth, and apparently reading messages. He looked engrossed in it, his brow knit together.

"Shepard's going to be ground team leader, obviously," Jenkins said, and now he was trying to get his hat back from Fredericks, who had decided to spin it around his finger.

"I thought that's why we had Alenko?"

"We have Alenko for the ladies," Joker replied. "Ask bridge officer Xuan about that, she thinks he's the dreamiest. It'll only end in tears, sister. Jedi cannot love."

"Shut up, Jeff." Xuan looked away, trying to affect a look of disdain as well as hiding her blush. She busied herself with her coffee.

"Ground team leader isn't the same as XO," Fredericks said, in a tone that said he wasn't completely sure. He was new, a private, but a good reputation and attitude had found him a place onboard the Normandy. "Maybe somebody got mixed up. Pressly's pretty cool, he was at the Blitz."

"You guys have been talking about Shepard ever since Anderson came on," Alvarez grumped from the long table, where she was cleaning her rifle. "No offense, lieutenant, ma'am." She nodded to Moreau and to Xuan. "You're worse than a sewing circle."

Joker looked up. "Then why did I get a message that told me Shepard is bringing the Mako and the last of our cargo detail?"

"Oh God," one of the marines said, in a horrified, delighted voice, "They're trusting him with a Mako?"

Jenkins grinned. "Perfect day for it, too. Big crowds, I bet they'd roll right off."

"And hey, it looks like Alenko just came aboard," Joker said, glancing at his messages. "And we've got a turian, he must have heard Shep was coming too and couldn't get here fast enough."

Adams had just come around the corner, up from the elevator and up from 'the cave' that he and his engineers were kept in. "Shepard?" he said, in his mild voice. "John Shepard?"

"No, man," Joker replied, "A German Shepherd, it was just a misunderstanding over the comm. Anyway, he's going to be awesome, he loves tug-o-war with a sock, he'll just run around sniffin' butts and licking himself. Maybe if he's good I'll turn off the gravity and he can doggie paddle around. But you guys'll have to clean up after him, if he pees in the Core we're all fucked."

"Well," smirked Xuan, "how is that different from Commander Shepard?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, we're letting you have coffee now?" Joker said to Adams, raising his eyebrows. "I thought we weren't giving engineers people food. Who's been encouraging them?" He glanced around.

"Morning, sir," Alvarez told him.

Adams smiled, and his eyes creased with little lines. "Happy launch day," he said, as he helped himself to some coffee. Then, in that same mild voice, he mused, "I've met him. Shepard. He's a pretty nice guy, I thought. Pretty smart."

"What? You served with him?" Jenkins had finally got his hat back, and he looked to the chief engineer with a blink of surprise.

Joker traded a look with Xuan, as though to say, Who knew? "Yeah, Adams. What ship? Seriously? Maybe that's why you're so calm about everything. You're probably used to Punch Out Johnny running around on all fours, breaking shit with his mind. After you put up with that shit, nothing compares. Life is zen."

Adams waved it away. "Not like that. Not on a ship. I met him here on Arcturus and we only talked for about fifteen minutes, but I thought he was all right." He was methodically preparing his coffee. "I don't think he'll remember me, though."

"Well, so, what was he like?" Jenkins asked.

"Big bloodshot eyes?" Fredericks supplied, helpfully. "A grenade in each hand?"

"Why, no." Adams looked up. "He was younger than I expected, that was all. About your height, Jenkins, blue eyes. Short hair, of course. When I first came to Arcturus Station, I wanted to order some equipment in case we ever needed to work on recovered probes or small vessels. So I had to place a request for some parts and I had to fill out some paperwork down in processing. That's where I met Shepard."

"What? Here," Jenkins said, "on Arcturus, all this time?"

"I thought they locked him up," Fredericks said with a small smile.

Alvarez shrugged. "I thought he was in some kind of crazy hospital."

"What, Shepard?" said one of the techs, passing through. "I heard he killed a guy the other day. Who'da known?"

Adams shook his head. None of the stories or gossip seemed to titillate him. "Anyway, we talked for about fifteen minutes while he helped me fill out my forms. He was very nice, I thought. Kind of slow, though, slow-moving. He seemed very tired. I said what kind of dinosaur is that. He had a toy one on his desk. I don't remember the dinosaur name, it was complicated. So I said, did you know, they are using special satellites now to beam into the ground to look for fossils on Earth. And he said, I didn't know that, that's very interesting. He was talking very slowly. Seemed depressed, I thought."

"Wow. Paperwork." Xuan smirked. "Is that where renegades go to die, or what."

"He didn't seem like a renegade," Adams said as he made to take his coffee back downlevel with him. "I guess we'll find out. I hope he's feeling better."

"Well, wait til he finds out we got him a turian. _That'll_ put a smile on his face," Joker said in an undertone, as Alenko and the turian engineer were heard coming down the stairway. The alien was of a deep rust color, nearly black, with blue smudges on his face. Adams was heard to say hello to the both of them.

The turian engineer walked innocently into a bunch of smiles all around, which he seemed to take as a friendly gesture toward him. He was trailing his luggage behind him and stood like the dorky new kid in front of the class. He and Alenko had just been talking to one another, and their conversation wrapped up just as the mess went quiet.

"Everyone," Alenko said, "this is Nick, you remember him. He's been working here on and off, and now he's coming along for the ride back. Hey, it was good to talk to you," this to the turian in a quieter tone. "I've got to stow my stuff and go on and see the captain. He told me to stop in when I came board."

Moreau was watching the sentinel closely, and he said, "Hey, man," with a certain inflection. "Comm room when you're done?"

"All right, well, I don't know how long this will be. Well, give Nick here a warm Normandy welcome." Which made everyone smirk a little, except Adams, when Joker said:

"We sure will. Hiya... Nick."

"Hello," the turian said, pleasantly. Nick the turian? Seriously?

"Hey, welcome aboard," Xuan told him, then. "You can stow your stuff in the lockers down there, and you can park your big cases there or down in cargo."

"Oh, I'll be needing to get into these," the turian replied, patting the big case.

"No problem, just make sure you can secure them for later." Xuan smiled. "Happy launch day."

*******

Formerly, during the weeks of work, drills, and preparation, the captain's considerable cabin was used as a sort of officer's mess. Or, as Pressly joked, it was just a mess; they used to stow supplies and odd cargo here during the work day, since no one slept here until recently, when they moved to live shifts. Now, the place looked clean and sparse, with dimmed lights and an orange glow from consoles.

"Lieutenant Alenko," Anderson greeted him. The captain was looking distracted, like he lost something and was on the verge of remembering its location.

"Good morning, captain. Happy launch day."

The captain focused now, and nodded to one of the round tables. "Please, have a seat. I wanted to take a moment to speak with you. I understand you will be sitting as monitor with Lieutenant Moreau for the launch?"

"Yes, sir. It's an honor."

"I'll be brief. I wanted to talk to you before the ceremony, and before Shepard came on. I don't know if you've heard of him, but he's a crazy son of a bitch. Hears voices. Tends to run around stark naked, swinging axes into things. Hits people. All the time. I suppose he'll just come on and punch everyone he sees, all the way up to the bridge." Anderson told him all this with that serious businesslike expression of his. "I thought you should be aware."

Kaidan must have looked surprised, because the captain suddenly smiled, watching his face. Then Alenko let out a laugh. "Well, sir, if you're going to dig right in. That's what I've heard people say. I've never served with Lieutenant Commander Shepard. Never met him. I don't really put a lot of faith in rumors, especially around here."

"There are a lot of stories about Shepard. Wild stories. And it's his own damn fault for many of them, but I'll tell you now, he's not a danger to himself or to this crew. He would fight to the death to defend the Normandy, or for any of you. Hell, that bastard will fight to death over vid trivia. What I am telling you here is that you will be working closely with Commander Shepard, as he will also be taking on duties as shore team leader. You'll be his second in command."

Kaidan had never seen such a thing in his time on ships. The XO always stood like a permanent fixture in the CIC, unless they had unusual expertise to offer on a mission. His second-to-last executive officer had been an engineer in her previous life, and she once helped him to dismantle and decrypt a recovered satellite.

"Fair enough, sir," he told the captain. "It's your ship." And she was new, and small. Maybe Anderson was going for something different with the Normandy? After a pause, Kaidan continued, "I've heard Shepard's one of our vanguards, sir, and one of our best. I'd expect a colorful personality and unpredictable reputation from a shock trooper. Also no surprise that people tend to exaggerate when it comes to biotics.. "

"He came from Mindoir," Anderson said.

Kaidan broke in, "And I know, and I'm sorry."

Anderson continued, "Don't interrupt, lieutenant. He wouldn't want your pity in any case." His tone softened, as if he hadn't meant to sound so gruff. "I am trying to think of how to explain this. I apologize, also, that I never mentioned any of this before. I hadn't known until very recently that Shepard would be coming aboard. In any case, what I am trying to tell you is that due to his background, he has never been trained as you were trained, as in a classroom or group setting. He has rarely worked with other biotics in a team, and for no reason that I can understand, he doesn't seem to like them. He'll work with them, but he doesn't like them."

"I don't need people to like me, sir. I just need them to do their jobs."

"I thought you might say something like that, Alenko. Good. I won't lie to you. I think he's going to hate you and he'll tell you so, to your face."

"Then that's the way I prefer it, sir, to my face. Honesty is the best policy." Kaidan made a slight smile. He was a grown man and the personal, off-hours opinions of others were not his concern.

"I think he's frustrated by his abilities, sometimes. He's very gifted, but we've never been able to find out what works for him. It won't be an issue on the job or in the field, that I know. Personally, on a personal level, Shepard is impatient, aggressive, sometimes resentful, sometimes petty. I say this to you now as I would say it to his face. I already have. But it does not affect the mission." Anderson sighed. "He's very bright," he added, as an afterthought.

"Sir, you know I respect you and I trust your judgment. I'm honored to be here." He was starting to sense that the captain wanted to tell him more, but the time was not right.

Anderson smirked, then. "Kaidan, I wish we had more of you. Listen. Shepard's been fitted with a new amp, and I think he'll be especially irritating the next few days. I hope that's all. He hasn't worn an amp in months while they waited to see what was wrong with him. It was dire at one point. He seems his old self again, but I've asked that they start him out on something very low level."

Kaidan nodded. "Probably a piece from Aldrin Labs, then? Like a Solaris?" It's what he would suggest.

"Yes. That's the one. Hopefully it will work out for him, but we won't know for a couple of days while he gets used to it."

If he had been asked his opinion in a similar situation, he would have recommended a I or III, enough to work with the nodes without making any radical changes or demanding any kind of performance. Something like the difference between a kid's bike with training wheels, and a motorcycle. "It's good to play it safe, then," Kaidan replied. "I'll keep an eye on him, sir. I've worn maybe half a dozen amps in my time, and I know how that goes. Uncomfortable sometimes."

"I'll be watching him too. He never tells anyone if he needs help. It's damned irritating."

"Usually you can tell right away if the amp is a problem. A serious problem. But like I said, sir, he's in good hands. I've served with other biotics, and I've trained with them. I don't know if any of us have the definitive answers on human biotics just yet, but I think I have a pretty good idea of how to deal with it so far."

"Thank you, lieutenant. Listen.. " The captain was patting his fist contemplatively, as if working out how to continue. "Never mind. Do you have any questions for me?"

"Well, is there anything I should know about, something I could expect to make transition any easier for him?" Kaidan was thinking of his own headaches, and his need for a dark, quiet place when they came.

"He keeps odd hours. Doesn't sleep very well. I think it keeps him up at night. Sometimes he'll go two days and then he'll be out. He's easily irritated, aggressive."

Kaidan tried not to smile, thinking of his sister's children. "Thanks for the heads up, sir," he said.

"Be ready for the ceremony in forty-five minutes. I'd like to say a few words to our crew in private before the politicians make their speeches."

"Aye, sir." Kaidan stood when Anderson stood, and they shook hands.

"Thank you, Alenko. Good luck today."

*******

Kaidan found Joker sitting in the comm room, his crutches leaned against the side of his chair.

"Check out that launch day beard, man. We've got half the Parliament coming, people from Earth, a turian honor guard. You look like a scrub!"

"And you look like Elvis," Joker shot back. "What are you trying to do, give the aliens false hope?"

Kaidan smiled. He should have known better than to set him up for a comeback. Nobody ever got zings on Joker. "What's up, Jeff. You nervous for the launch?"

"Hell, no. I was born for this."

"Then what's up?" Kaidan folded his arms. "There's not a problem, is there?" Suddenly, he thought: what if there was? Would they let us delay the launch, even with all the pomp and circumstance?

"No, not with the ship." Joker's voice took a hard edge suddenly. "Why didn't you tell me we were getting nukes?"

This surprised Kaidan, and the wheels were turning. "How'd you know?"

"I got a message about the mandatory safety vid for the 'radiological device'." Moreau studied his face. "You knew and you didn't tell me."

"It was on a need-to-know basis, Jeff," Kaidan replied. "Security's really tight with this. It's bad enough that they're making the launch date public. I was hoping we could have put her out early just in case. I don't think people would like to hear about that."

"Adams knows."

"Yes, he does. A lot of ships have them."

"Yeah, but us? A scout ship? The state-of-the-art stealth ship? What the hell is that supposed to mean."

"We're not going to drop out of a mass relay and nuke somebody, Joker. It doesn't work like that."

"No, we aren't. I am. I mean say some shit goes down, it's gonna me pressing the button. Good, I mean, because I was killer in the sims, and I'm the best goddam pilot in the fleet, and I'd nuke the shit out of something if Anderson told me to. But I mean, shit. I don't know how I'd feel about that. I'd do it, but it would be on my conscience. I'm just pissed off that nobody saw fit to tell the fucking pilot and I find out on launch day."

Kaidan instantly understood, and he felt a pang of sympathy, looking on that scowling, scrubby face. He had never seen Jeff Moreau really worked up about something. "I don't think you're going to have to worry about that, Jeff. It's not a warhead on a missile. I've read the specs, and we used to train with a dummy version back in the program. Hypothetically, it would be part of an explosive device that is physically carried out and installed on the ground. It would be me who arms it. Hypothetically."

Moreau absorbed this for a minute. "And you'd do it?"

"I'd do it just like I was trained to do." To soften the serious tone of the conversation, Kaidan added, "So, technically, it would be me nuking the shit out of something, not you. So there you go. It's not a missile. You aren't going to fire it at another ship or drop it out of a hatch."

As if to cover his embarrassment, Joker said, "Yeah, well, I just don't like having that shit back there. I wish somebody said something."

"Cargo detail is bringing it up today, and we're going to secure it. You won't even know it's there. It won't be armed or anything, and we'd have to put all the components together to make it ready for use. It's perfectly safe. I'm trained in its safety and protocols, Adams and his engineers are trained, and we are all going to have to watch that mandatory safety vid. It's fine."

"I guess the Normandy's core puts out more radiation, anyway," Joker mused. After a minute, he said, "So, basically, Johnny Shepard is gonna come roaring up the ramp in the Mako, and he's got a nuke in the back."

Well, when you put it that way.. "They just gave him a new amp."

"So, like, what, he's gonna be _extra crazy_ too?"

"No. I meant, he just got a new amp so I doubt he'll be driving. He's just coming on with the cargo detail." After a beat, Kaidan added, "You know, I wouldn't be surprised if he just sleeps it off, and we don't see him until we're underway."

Joker shook his head. "Well, you have a way of taking the fun out of everything," he said. "You even made a nuke boring. Damn, bro."

"So we're cool?"

"Yeah. What'd Anderson want?"

"Just checking on things."

"Bullshit." Joker was getting his crutches up.

"He's going to want to talk to us over the comm when Pressly and our new doc get here. Probably any minute now. We should go."

"At least Anderson gives a crap and gets to the point. Today's ceremony is gonna be a real yawn. Our politicians, their politicians. Probably some interpretive dance from the beaks or some shit, who knows. It'll put ya to sleep."

"Good thing you can fly this thing with both eyes shut, then."

"Hell ya, man. You don't have to do a thing, Alenko. Just sit by me and look serious. You can pull up extube or something."

*******

In the massive neo-futuristic lobby of the Systems Alliance Navy HQ, a crowd of guards, servicemembers, attaches, officers, and hangers-on were sprawling out everywhere, most of them speaking into a comm, looking around, talking to each other, or watching the huge vidscreen. Model interceptors hung suspended from the ceiling. Admiral Hackett looked out across the mass of people from the balcony and sighed. So much pomp and circumstance. He was getting a headache already.

"Sir, what a momentous day," Lieutenant Redding was saying as he strolled up. He was youngish, with a baby face and glinty dark eyes. He could never seem to manage the serious short cut of the military; it made his head look like a round ball.

"Ain't it just," Hackett said. Below, the turian dignitaries were beginning to arrive, tall, striking beings dressed in bright colors. Their soldiers were a sight to see in the bright plates of ceremonial armor.

"State of the art technology, unprecedented abilities," Redding went on, "really the pride of Earth. But do you think we've really made the best choice, sir?"

"Redding, you're not the first person to tell me I made a bad choice with Shepard, and you sure as hell won't be the last. What's going to make your argument any different?"

His curt and weary tone surprised the lieutenant, who wasn't accustomed to direct confrontation, let alone from an admiral. "Well," he said, "I'm not saying it's a bad choice, sir, it's Captain Anderson's choice after all and regs say he has final decision over who goes on his ship. I just wonder if it's the best idea to put such a burden of responsibility on someone who is clearly troubled.. "

You and me both, kid. You can't possibly understand what's at stake here. "I guess we'll find out," Hackett said. "Fortune favors the brave." He nodded down to the lobby below. "Looks like the folks from the embassy are here. Why don't you go say hello, Redding."

"Sir."

Watching him leave, Hackett grumped to Miss Woods, "Wish Shepard would just steal the ship and roar off before the first speaker even gets to the podium. Middle finger out the viewport."

Plugged in to her comm, Miss Woods turned and smiled at him while she monitored his messages. "Oh, they wouldn't let a little old thing like that stop them, not when they've set their minds to making speeches."

"True enough."

"Have a mint, sir."

*******

_In the lower decks of the Normandy, the turian engineer studied the holographic consoles while he waited for the servicemen to clear out for the gathering above. Satisfied when all but the essential crew had left him, he took the handle of the tall case and wheeled it into the officers' quarters. The doors slid shut behind him._

Above, in the CIC, Pressly stood at galaxy map, and the swirling arms of the Milky Way bathed his uniform in gentle light. Anderson's voice came over the comm system, deep and resonant. "Soon we will assume our stations for the christening and launch of the soon-to-be SSV Normandy. I wanted to speak to you all before then, as your captain and fellow serviceman."

_Below, the turian pulled the tall case upright by the table in the captain's quarters. He set the smaller case down._

"Ladies and gentlemen," Anderson began. "It is a historic day."

In the cargo hold, Fredericks and Alvarez stood and watched as the Normandy's bay began to open. They could see the glass of the docks and the glow of Thetis beyond the ramp. The great noise of the docks was revealed to them.

_The turian unsnapped the snaps on the cases._

"Our ship will prove to the Council the ingenuity and courage of humanity."

_The armor gleamed darkly in its bed of foam._

Guided by hand signals from Alvarez and Fredericks, the Mako slowly rolled up the ramp. It towed the last of the cargo behind it on a trailer, and the last of the marines stood guard on it. One of them was riding on the cannon.

"In about an hour, I will ask Lieutenant Moreau to begin launch protocols. We are bound today for the human colony of Eden Prime, and I know at least one of you here that calls her home. Once the champagne bottle breaks on our bow and we are underway, I will be giving you further details on the Normandy's mission."

_The red and black armor had belonged once to a pirate lord and store bore the faint scars of its wearer's last battle. It was in the cockpit of his escape pod that the pirate had finally died, thrown over the sparking and smoking controls as the ship crashed down. The victor had pulled on the throttle and prayed to his father's gods-- let me live if just to die in this Phantom armor!_

With a note of warmth in his growl of a voice, Anderson said, "I have invited Doctor Chakwas aboard as our Chief Medical Officer. I have known her for several years, and I know you will come to trust and appreciate her as much as I do. Most of you have known and worked with Navigation Officer Pressly these past weeks. I know that he will serve us as honorably as his tour aboard the Tokyo in the Skyllian campaign."

_The pistol waited for him, patient as an old friend. It has been three days since its last use. It whirred slightly and glowed as he brought it back to life in the dim light of the captain's cabin. He won't need it today, he thought, but he was always prepared._

The Mako pulled into its final position aboard the Normandy, and as the cargo bay began to close, the last marines jumped down from the cargo trailer. They saluted their brothers and sisters on the deck.

"Joining us with the last of our marines and our cargo comes Commander Shepard," Anderson continued over the comm. "I've known him since he was only a boy, and I've watched him grow into the man he is today. I won't pretend I haven't heard the stories told about him, but I'll tell you something that you might not know-- that he is intelligent, brave, and fiercely loyal. I have asked him to come aboard as my executive officer."

In the cargo bay, Lieutenant Commander Shepard grinned a proud grin down at his crew, a sight to see in his sleek Onyx armor with the tell-tale red stripe. He had a shotgun strapped to his back and a stick of what looked like beef jerky in his gauntlet. With fierce pride he returned the salute, straddled on the Mako's cannon.

_The baked earth pot was small and nestled in the corner of the weapons case. Its contents were the clay slurry mix used by his people for thousands of years. It was cool to his ungloved fingers._

"This will be our chance to show Earth and Palaven what we have known for these past months, that the Normandy is the greatest new ship in the galaxy. It will be a pleasure and an honor to serve with you."

_On his face Nihlus Kryik painted the first white stroke of his true identity._


	4. Chapter 4

The doors of the captain's quarters slid open, and there stood the proof of Anderson's suspicion. The turian was faced away from him, reading from a holographic console screen.

"Nihlus Kryik."

The turian did not yet turn around. His voice, though, sounded pleasant enough. "Yes, how did you know?"

"I knew the instant I was asked if a turian engineer could come aboard. It seemed like something a Spectre would do. Now that I see you, I recognize you as the one who made a mess of our cables that one time."

Nihlus laughed a metallic little laugh. "Very good. Not many humans can tell us apart, especially as now I look much different. I should have disguised myself as a busybody bureaucrat or something instead. Your crew is very well educated and I'm afraid all I know of engineering has come from reading the Codex." He turned and walked toward Anderson with the graceful strength that all turians possessed. "It's just that I wanted a close and personal look at the Normandy from time to time without alerting anyone as to my true profession. It is good to meet you in person, at last, face to face and wearing true colors."

The turian offered a red gauntlet and Anderson shook it. "Welcome aboard, Nihlus," he said evenly. "I want to thank you for putting Shepard's name forward to the Council. I suppose you have made yourself familiar with his record?"

"Very," Nihlus said, and there was something in that flanging tone that Anderson wasn't sure he liked. "How is Shepard this morning? I understand he's been fitted with a new amp?"

"Well, you are on top of things. ("Of course") He's been fitted with a low level bio-amp, one of our own. In a few days we will have a better idea of how it works for him."

"Good. It's not worth trying to make him an adept again. You'll just kill him, and from his record, he's turned out better as a shock trooper. But biotics alone isn't what makes him an attractive candidate for Special Tactics and Reconnaissance."

Anderson knew better than to be surprised, but he still experienced the first chill of unease. The turian spoke with an authority and knowledge that he should have expected from a Spectre. "I'd like to know what you think," the captain prompted.

Nihlus was quiet for a moment, simply looking about the cabin. "Do you know what I thought was interesting about that little documentary that your government made? I liked the beginning with the history vid from the actual invasion of Normandy. The thing that was interesting to me is that it wasn't all that long ago, and yet the footage was in greyscale and there weren't any frigates, dropships, or even shields of any kind. I saw primitive facsimiles, mind you, but my point is that your race has come very far in a relatively short amount of time."

"I meant what I said about the ingenuity of mankind," Anderson replied, "and our courage. I believe a human Spectre would quickly become invaluable to the Council."

"Saren didn't. You must know that he was my mentor. That he took me under his wing." Nihlus didn't give him time to respond. "In our views of humanity we are, unfortunately, at a stark divide. He has allowed emotion to cloud his judgment for the time being. I tell you this because I know you suspect I'm setting a trap."

"Very well, if we're going to bring that out in the open." Anderson folded his arms. "I do have my suspicions and doubtless you know why. I have always believed in Shepard, but it is not usual that other people do, that is, people who don't know him or understand why he does the things he does. I admit that your message came as a surprise, but I didn't have the time to question you. I had to act. I know Shepard's the right choice, but I want to know how you arrived at your decision."

"I first heard of Shepard some years ago," Nihlus replied. "That grim business on Torfan. Effective, though. I think they're still talking about that, the batarians. I wanted to know more, so I did some digging. It's true I've never met him face to face, but I think I've come to know him. Tell me. What do you think the little girl represented? One of his sisters, maybe? Or do you think that she was real?"

Anderson hoped his face did not betray the surprise elicited by the turian's remark. Unable to keep a note of agitation out of his voice, he replied, "His amp overheated on Torfan. If you're going to wow me with trivia pulled out of his files," Anderson couldn't help the growl in his tone, "you can't tell me you didn't even look at his medical report. He's not insane."

"I didn't say insane, captain. I don't get the idea that he is insane at all. I'm interested in his character, his psyche. I'll have you know that I gave him the benefit of a doubt when my colleagues told me he was crazy-- that I was crazy for even suggesting him-- and so I went to find the tapes from his sessions. Actually I found them quite interesting."

Anderson pressed his mouth into a very tight line. He didn't like the offhanded way that the turian spoke of another's pain, or of something so private, but he wouldn't let Nihlus provoke him. If that is what he was attempting to do. The turian was unreadable and for a moment, Anderson was reminded strongly of Saren, could see him standing there.

"Shepard isn't crazy. Some people say so, but there's logic in the way that he does things. What he is is perceptive. He knows someone's strength immediately, or their weakness. He is very impatient and if he can't respect someone, or if he thinks he can push someone, he'll do it. He has no patience for anything that stands in his way. If he behaves in an outrageous manner, it's because he knows it will put the enemy off-balance."

Nihlus was watching him carefully as Anderson spoke. The turian's eyes were very green, and stood out in his painted face. "My estimation as well," he replied. "For instance-- though I know Torfan may be a bad example in this case-- the batarians were immensely confused and frightened by his choice of weaponry and when he took off his armor. Another example might be his sessions with Dr. Msitu. It is clear to any listener with intelligence that there was a point where Dr. Msitu made a mistake and Shepard lost all respect for him. At that point, when required to complete the allotted session time but unwilling to cooperate, Shepard reacted much in the manner you described to me. I can't say we have the same sense of humor, but even so, I regret that I didn't copy the rest of the tapes. I love the story about the crocodile. I wish I could have seen the doctor's face."

"How did you get a copy of those?" Anderson said, irritated now. He didn't even know what happened with Msitu, only that the man had refused to work with Shepard ever again.

Nihlus folded his arms. "I'm a Spectre, captain," he replied, in a deceptively gentle tone of reminder. "But you can rest assured that I am not really spying on anyone, it isn't my style. I was just curious about Shepard and what.. what makes him tick. I would say that one of his greatest strengths is that he is unpredictable. A very human trait, I think, but maybe more than most of you."

Anderson absorbed that for a moment. He still felt alarm at the thoroughness of Nihlus' investigation, and it did not subside. The turian had probably bribed someone. Anderson made a note to talk to Hackett about security measures and personnel reports. "I've known Shepard for longer than anyone living," he said, then, trying to school his tone into one of light agreement. Don't be angry, not now. "It's still difficult for me to predict what he'll do." There, that sounded even.

"Yes, like the other day," Nihlus agreed. "I really thought he had attacked that lieutenant! You must have thought so too because you sounded deadly serious. I was hanging on every word."

Anderson wasn't going to give him the benefit of enjoying his shock. He made his face as calm as he could as soon as he could. "The salarian," he said, suddenly. "There was a salarian brought in for questioning. He was yours."

"Very good, Captain Anderson. Yes, one of my followers. I wanted to keep an eye on Shepard so close to launch day, so I asked my salarian to stand by."

"That's why he was caught hanging around by Munitions. He didn't do anything overtly wrong, but still managed to arouse suspicion. Nothing concrete. Just enough to be taken in for questioning. A real salarian spy would never be caught redhanded like that."

"Precisely. Once he was in the prison, I had him bug one of the guards. Now, I'm not that good, but providence had it that the particular guard turned out to be your escort. I'm glad to know there were no serious side effects with that sedative. That man should have known better." After a pause, Nihlus said, "I think you've very clever, Anderson. And you cut right to the heart of things. I like that."

"If you would only do the same," the captain retorted.

"Yes. Very well. I believe we need a human Spectre. I don't know if Shepard will be that one, but I believe we need one. I am going to tell you the truth about the other races. The salarians think they're clever, but they're too cowardly. They don't like to take risks and they won't do anything if they don't think they've already won. Their short life spans prevent them also from understanding the long-term nature of things. On the other hand, the asari live too long and this makes them slow to decide on anything. Their instinct is to wait for problems to just go away on their own. The asari also gravitate toward consensus. So do my people, in a way, but we have our Hierarchy, we have bold decisions and bold turians. The strongest decide and the weaker follow. I think that of any of the races.. that your species and mine may have the most in common."

"Every species has its advantages and disadvantages," Anderson returned. He did not say it to be diplomatic; he meant it, and he didn't want the turian to try and lead him into a trap. "Each one has something to offer, and each one has its own weaknesses to overcome. I don't pretend humanity is any different, and I won't be manipulated by any appeals to notions of alien inferiority. I notice you've said nothing of the turians."

The Spectre's green eyes held a winking light in them. "I regret only our physiology, at times. I wish I could drink champagne to celebrate the Normandy. That's how it's done, isn't it?"

"You won't find a pawn in Shepard," Anderson warned him, "if that's what you were looking for. It's true that his mentor was a turian, and that he speaks turian, but you wouldn't be able to control him." I can't even control him!

"I don't want to. It's not my style, captain. I am only explaining why we need a human Spectre. Our council races have simply been here so long that we are slow to act on things, sometimes, and it's difficult to work together. A lot of bureaucracy, a lot of politics. I think an agile, aggressive, and unpredictable human soldier would be a perfect choice. Especially Shepard."

"Then you're thinking of the batarians. What do you know?"

"Nothing I'd tell you, if I did. But we've come to the heart of it, then, captain. The batarians have no wish to be part of the galaxy, and the Council would respect their wishes to remain apart.. if that's what they did. I don't need to tell you about the killing and slavery that their pirates and raiders delight in. There is a feeling among the Citadel that the Terminus Systems are going to become a problem soon, and I'd like to have Shepard on our team. I can't say I know how things would have turned out otherwise.. but the batarians have made him what he is. I want them to know, loud and clear, who it is that the Council has sent for them." Here his voice took on a different tone, a darker tone, and those green eyes looked into Anderson's to show him that he knew. "Some might forgive.. but not Shepard."

Anderson touched a hand to his brow. "You want a loose cannon," he said, trying to keep his voice even. My God! Nihlus must know everything.

"Yes, and I think I've found him. Shepard has no family and no home." The Spectre began to pace. "That is hard for a turian to understand. He has a place in the military, for now, but his future is uncertain and it always has been." A pause. "He is a man with nothing to lose. He is free to do what needs to be done."

"I will repeat what I told you earlier. You can't just point Shepard where you want and pull the trigger. Especially if the Council granted him full immunity. God only knows, he'd surprise us all and do something ridiculous like ignoring the lot of you and spending all his time making sandcastles on some uncharted beach, or catching up on old vids." Anderson shook his head. "Regardless of your intentions, I think you have judged his strengths correctly."

"And his past. Haven't I?"

"I can't say." Anderson felt a twinge of frustration, then, and almost jealousy. He wanted those tapes.

"He hates them. He must."

"They've given him no reason to like them. But he's not insane. He's not broken. He's turned out much stronger than anyone would have ever suspected."

"But he wouldn't flinch."

"He gets the job done."

Nihlus seemed to smile. His mandibles were twitching. "As I thought," he replied. "This will only be the first of our missions together," he went on. "I want to have a good look at him, and if he is what I think he is, I would like to be a mentor to him like.. "

"Like Saren was to you," Anderson finished, catching him at his misstep.

The Spectre acknowledged it. "Yes. I was going to say like Saren was to me, but you are already tired of hearing of him." He made the equivalent of a shrug. "I'm not blind to his flaws. We all have them. In fact, I pride myself on seeing people for who they really are. Finding their weaknesses. I just know. But I have no personal connection to the Relay Incident, and I don't resent humanity. I want to do my job. I think Shepard has something to offer our team and I'll be proud to sponsor him."

"God help me, but I think I believe you." Anderson shook his head. "I hope I'm right. I want to move forward. Humanity may be new on the scene, but we have a lot to offer, and our potential is great. We've progressed the fastest of any race, that's got to count for something."

"In between the time it took the asari to decide what color to decorate the Citadel, your kind went from wooden carts to fighter planes."

"Shepard's the one you want, and the one they need. I only hope you're ready for him." A pause. "He'll test you too, Nihlus. You know that."

"Of course. I'm counting on it." The turian approached him and put out his hand once more to shake. "Now, I'll let you lead the way out or we'll be late for the ceremony. You know the Palaven Guard is here today, and they've brought swords from the Old Armory. A real honor.. "


	5. Chapter 5

It had been a long haul out of Knossos System, longer than usual. Nine days, three scans, and one stop on Weigh Station B, located on one of the many ice moons that followed Archanes. The pilot of the freighter _Allentown_ knew this route, and he didn't mind too much; there was always money in the heavy metals, and you didn't get as much trouble out here. He had the onboard sound system tuned to something jazzy and mellow, his boots propped up on the console. He needed new boots. Molten rock had eaten the sole off the left, and damn if that didn't sober him up on the last rowdy binge in the mining camp. Jesus H. Fall into lava! What would his mother say.

He was chewing on a candy bar, looking out at the viewport at the gas giant, thinking idly that the surface of Archanes kind of looked like blended caramel and chocolate. His deeply relaxing contemplation came to a close as he brushed crumbs off his chest, looked up, and saw a motherfucking ship right fucking there.

It was a frigate of some kind he'd never seen before, black with a white stripe. Just as he banged on the onboard comm to alert his crew, the unknown ship popped up in the readout as the _SSV NORMANDY_, with appropriate distance, shield, and damage estimation. It should have turned up on the display a lot sooner than this.

The frigate was blinking its lights at him.

"MSV_ Allentown_, this is _Normandy_. Stay on course."

"_Normandy_, this is _Allentown_. Didn't see you."

"_Allentown_, _Normandy_. Nobody does. How's it hangin', man?"

The _Normandy_ sounded friendly enough, casual. You didn't get that a lot with the Alliance types. The pilot was tonguing a chip of chocolate on his back tooth, and then he said, "_Normandy_, _Allentown_. You part of the 63rd Scout?"

"_Allentown_, _Normandy_. We're on a test run. Testing out the systems." The frigate glowed with a delayed heat release. "How long you been in Knossos?"

"_Normandy_, _Allentown_. Just over a standard week. Station B just cleared us, so we're hoping to hit the relay in a couple of hours."

"_Allentown_, _Normandy_. You seen anything weird in this system?"

Besides the grave planet? "_Normandy_, _Allentown_. Not personally, but outprocess has been a hell of a lot slower than usual."

"A lot of traffic?"

"No," the pilot replied, "no more than usual, that I can tell. Just slow. If they scanned everybody else as much as they did us, that was why."

The _Normandy_ was passing across the starboard window now.

"Cracking down on artifact smuggling, ya think? Our catalog says they have ruins down there on the colony planet."

"Come to think of it, I guess that makes sense. My first time hauling out of Therum was as slow as this one. They had that university team down there picking at the old city, and then somebody fell in the lava. All that trouble and all that damn grant money and I think they just found some broken pots or something."

"That better be one hell of a pot, the pot to end all pots." The _Normandy_'s pilot let out a whistle. "_Allentown_, what's check-in protocol down there on Therum? You sound like you're an old hand at this."

"Well, the main drag is called Nova Yekaterinburg, and the camp's run by StratoVan. Ask for a guy called Edem Perez, he's the one who handles all the arrivals. Fuel issues. Scans and searches. Waivers to sign sometimes, 'cause of all the lava. But I wouldn't buy fuel from them if you can't help it, if you're heading out all that way. Just get it from one of the stations here if you have to, much cheaper, they suck it right off Archanes. That's assuming you'd want to land, anyhow."

"_Allentown_, how bout you send us the contact info. We might be in this system for a few days.. doesn't hurt to have a number to call, you know?"

"_Normandy_, sending now. Good hunting."

"Thanks, man." He'd never seen a frigate waggle like it was waving its wing, but then, he'd never seen a frigate like the _Normandy_ before.

"And watch out for the asteroids."

*******

In the glowing projection of the galaxy map, the world of Armeni hung like a chunk of jade. There were untold millions of weird crypts beneath that planet's surface, the forbidden testament of the long-dead zeioph. Shepard was moving his hand back and forth through the hologram when Joker cut the outbound comm and spoke only in the house.

"Sooo.. you want to do this, captain? Seems like a good lead."

Navigator Pressly was tabbing through the star catalog at his terminal. "I'm seeing no other major Prothean site in the Artemis Tau cluster. Well, that anyone knows of. A lot of gas giants, a water planet. There's this rock, Sharjila, but nobody put anything in about ruins there. I don't know how you'd get a long-term civ on a world like that. It's a level one hazard. So.. " He scratched the back of his head. "I think Therum is our best bet."

"Do it, Joker," Shepard said. He didn't look up from Armeni. "It all matches. Comm buoys reported unregistered vessels in this space, and the _Allentown_ didn't say anything about piracy. I'm thinking mercs. Geth, maybe. Saren's."

"You think it could be a trap?" Pressly glanced up at the commander, and then glanced away, trying not to look.

"Does a bear shit in the woods, Pressly?" Shepard was still poking his fingers through the dead world. He didn't sound angry, at least; not as angry as the last hour. Maybe he was finally cooling down.

Bridge Officer Xuan hovered at the mouth of the CIC. "Sir, I can check with Perez and see if Dr. T'soni came through the colony, or if she's been hiring any local help. Which is usually how it's done with these projects." The effort of keeping her voice even came at the expense of her posture, which was fidgety. "I mean, if it's not a trap, and it's legit."

Shepard nodded.

"On course to Therum," Joker's voice came over the comm. "I wouldn't worry about those sigs from the comm buoy. The way I read them, they're too few to cause us any trouble, and they look like merc junkers in any case. Their idea of a energy barrier is probably some cardboard and duct tape. Puhleez. So cap'n," he went on now, in a different tone, a tone that made things much more interesting, "can I ask you a _personal_ question?"

Shepard made a face. "Over the whole freaking CIC?" This got him looking up from the galaxy map, and he clenched his hands on the rail, looking suspicious. "Well do it. Maybe one of you has got the balls after all."

"Well, see, I'm sure everyone else would like to know the answer. What I wanted to ask was, is there a reason why you are, y'know, half naked? Coz I'm all the way up here and I can feel the disturbance in the force."

Private Fredericks bit his lip to keep from smiling. He had CIC duty for this shift and it had otherwise been uneventful.

"I'm _hot_," Shepard growled.

"Ya know, commander, I agree, I'm secure enough in my masculinity to admit that. But maybe you ought to get some rest is what I meant."

Shepard was stripped to the waist, barefoot, and pouring with sweat. His chest glistened in the light of the galaxy map. _Glistened_. Navigator Pressly in all his years had never beheld such a thing in the CIC, or anywhere else for that matter, and he hoped this would not be routine.

"I'll be fine," snapped the commander. "You're my pilot, not my nanny. And that goes to the rest of you, just do your jobs. I want confirmation that T'soni went down to Therum. I want to know what dig sites, I want to know how many hirelings, I want to know number of vehicles and what kind of equipment. Environmental hazards. Landing sites." His hands came off the rail and left wet prints behind. He was scratching the base of his skull with blunt, bitten fingernails. "I don't want to risk the Normandy. We'll drop the Mako. I want stealth down until we get confirmation, until we hit that world. We'll need it if things go south. Does something amuse you, private?"

"Sir, no sir!"

Shepard stalked out.

The CIC was tense, a collective breath held.

Then a voice came lazily up from Pressly's workstation. "Well, sounds like the commander is a man of tradition," that voice said, very relaxed, unbothered by anything.

The navigator said, "What are you talking about, Adams?"

"Every ship captain has to go around without a shirt every once in a while," the chief engineer replied over Pressly's comm. "Old starfleet regs, practically. Dates back to Kirk."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Adams," Pressly sighed.

"I know... and it's a damn shame, Pressly. When you coming down here to meet our alien? She's really something."

*******

The last 72 hours had been the most eventful of Melody Xuan's career.

She had witnessed a ship dedication by ceremonial units from the Palaven Guard and the Second World War. She had manned the bridge of a prestigious new ship for its launch, a ship type never before seen in all the galaxy. She was now under the command of the first human Spectre, charged with avenging the human colony of Eden Prime.

She was still thinking of the Citadel and how it first looked, wreathed in milky vapors from the Serpent Nebula. She remembered the bone-chilling awe of all the little lights, all the little moving ships and vehicles, and then all the trees and water.

Xuan was smiling slightly at her terminal. It then turned rueful. She wondered if any of this would reach her parents back home in California. They had never really been supportive of her field of study, and they seemed more impressed that her brother sometimes felt the motivation to crawl out of his dorm room before noon. Neither had they said much when she was picked-- hand-picked-- to come aboard the _Normandy_, back when it didn't even have its name yet. Her mother had simply smiled a confused little smile, and remarked that she didn't know that space was a good place for a girl to go. "I heard it's bad for your bones."

The idea had been that the Normandy's crew would be comprised of new talent as well as old salty dogs. Decades of experience would guide the ship and keep her steady, while the newcomers would learn the prototype without bringing any bad habits to the table. In time, they would form the basis for teaching the new generation, having learned what had worked with the new design and what had not. Melody Xuan was honored to have been chosen, though the experience was as exciting as it was draining. She was glad to have Navigator Pressly as the calm hand of the XO.

She never believed it was going to be Shepard, and now she understood what Captain Anderson had had in mind. What she thought of Shepard as the first human Spectre, she didn't know yet. She didn't even know what she thought of the man himself. He had turned out much younger than she expected, and much better looking, though the events of the last three days were grinding his good looks down to a sharp, manic facsimile. Having seen the look in those creepy blue eyes, she was starting to believe the rumors that said he was crazy.

Commander Shepard had not slept since Eden Prime. He was still going, still pacing, stalking round the ship like an animal in a cage. Two shifts ago, Lieutenant Alenko had spoken to crewmembers in the mess. He had asked for their cooperation and understanding in the matter with the commander, explaining that new bio-amps sometimes caused side-effects or reactions. Kaidan had looked exhausted, himself, but he had smiled a little as he explained about what he was, what Shepard was. He even removed his own amp, laid it in the palm of his hand like show and tell, and then put it back in again and speaking all the while. Like he was putting a contact lens in and out for the benefit of the uninitiated. There was something always warm in his weary brown eyes, and something comforting in the tone of his voice, though the only thing Melody could look at was the dried rust of blood that was stuck spattered to the shell of his ear.

Shepard had led the marines into some bar on the Citadel. She'd heard about that. She'd heard how many people they'd killed-- they'd killed everyone. And then they came back with a krogan, a turian, and a quarian, all of which had come aboard the Normandy. Xuan had been thinking about that when Kaidan spoke, was still thinking about it now. After his mellow and kindly words on Shepard's behalf, Alenko had gone off-shift and slept.

And Shepard remained-- pacing, stalking, banging the bulkheads with his fist when he walked, banging the lockers as he pulled out his shotgun and armor, always cleaning, checking, reloading, cleaning. On her last break she had witnessed him lift his hardsuit off the worktable and send it slamming into the wall.

As she checked with colonial records, Xuan hoped that the commander wouldn't still be awake when they touched down on Therum. She was a little afraid for Dr. T'soni, who might still be innocent after all. A child couldn't always be judged by the character of its parents. Sometimes the apple fell far from the tree. She was still thinking about the blue-black flash that came off Shepard, and how that armor had buckled and twisted when he threw it.

*******

Standing under the lukewarm drizzle in the showers, Kaidan Alenko wasn't fully awake until Chief Williams came in, pulled off her sports bra, and started talking to him.

Ashley must have seen the look on his face."What's the matter, LT," she said with no shred of mercy, "you didn't learn the facts of life back at Chora's Den?"

"Too busy shooting everyone, chief," he replied. "No, I, uh, just forgot where I was for a minute."

"Wakey wakey."

She grinned at him a little, not unkindly, and found her own showerhead. "I've been thinking about that, that bar, I mean," she admitted, then, and her voice grew sober. "It was like a shootout from the ancient west. All we needed was a piano player and a set of batwing doors. I can't believe that happened." A pause. "They died for nothing."

"They died for credits." Kaidan shut his eyes and just let the water go over him. The water pressure was not very strong this time. "They didn't have to fight us, we weren't there for them. We just wanted Fist. It's not worth getting upset about."

"I know. Think if they killed us, or the commander. Think of the mission."

"Always do, chief." Kaidan was glad they were able to rescue her from the carnage on Eden Prime. He liked her tough girl personality, her one-of-the-guys ways, and he had been thinking that he could have used a good NCO to help run things around here.

After a minute, Wiliams spoke up again. "So, Therum's the world we want. Bridge checked with the colony register and Dr. T'soni came through there. Hired out a mining laser to this dig site."

Kaidan nodded. "Some good detective work."

"I would have just asked some scruffy joe down from the mining team. If anybody knew anything about some young asari thing, you'd be hearing it from a rowdy, drunken mining camp."

"You've got a point."

"Listen, LT. Commander says we're going to do a Mako drop. He wants me and the turian, but, uh, I think you should come instead. You should tell him."

It took Kaidan a moment to realize she meant, 'instead of Garrus' and not 'instead of me'. "Garrus was an officer on the Citadel. He probably speaks asari, and Dr. T'soni might respond better to another alien."

"True, but I don't know that we can trust him. I mean, I trust him more than the krogan, he's a cop, right, but I wouldn't want to be wrong. It's risky enough that we came out here for Benezia's daughter. I don't want it to be just me and Shepard, you know? I'd feel better with you there." Then she gave a snort of a laugh, and added, in a hearty, punchy tone, "Whoaaa, that sounded really lame and girly, didn't it? I don't need you to protect me, I just want to know you got our back."

"We just want to find Dr. T'soni so we can talk to her," Kaidan put in, gently.

"We're space marines, Kaidan. We have a plan to kill everyone we meet."

He chuckled. "Well, yeah, all right," he said. "But the way I see it, Dr. T'soni is an academic type, she's been studying the Protheans for decades. One of my college textbooks had an excerpt from one of her papers in it. I don't see her abandoning her entire career overnight and becoming an outlaw. People in her field, they love what they do. I just can't see anyone giving that up all of a sudden."

"But it's her mom," Ashley said. "Wouldn't you help your mom?"

"Mine's less of the evil witch type, more of the cookies and cat sweaters type," Kaidan replied. "Anyway, I'd rather not talk any more about my mother while I'm standing here naked."

This made Williams laugh. "All right, fair enough," she said. "I just think you ought to talk to the commander. Wouldn't you like to come down and see Prothean ruins, anyway?"

"I don't think I should be trusted around any more Prothean ruins."

"Hey, that wasn't your fault. You didn't know what it was going to do. I don't care what Udina and the council say.. Saren would have destroyed that beacon anyway if you hadn't defused those bombs." A beat. "And you played that off pretty cool, LT. Like you could have done it with a cup of coffee in your hand."

"I'm just sorry the beacon did what it did to Shepard. No one believes him."

"Because of his reputation. I guess everybody thinks he's pretty crazy. It's all news to me.. I never heard of him." He wasn't watching her, but he could practically her hear rolling her eyes. "He seems kind of wired, though. Doesn't like you, though, that's for sure." Her tone grew lighter, more fun. "A rival for all those bridge officer babes."

"I don't think he's as bad as they say, and anyway, it's hard to judge right at the moment." Kaidan turned off the water and got himself a towel. "He'll be better when he wakes up."

Williams glanced his way. "You know he's still awake?"

"What, since.. ?"

"Yeah. Since the medbay."

Kaidan winced. "It's that bio-amp, I bet. I'll go talk to him about it."

"Actually, I think you should go talk to Dr. Chakwas about it instead," Williams said, with a twinkle. "And I think you should go just like that."

Kaidan was wrapping his towel, and he smirked, shaking his head. "You know, you're all right, chief," he said.

"See ya, LT. If you get into trouble with the commander, just bang on the airlock doors _real loud_ so we can hear you."

*******


	6. Chapter 6

The last few days were one day to him, a weird and weary period of time that he could not completely sequence. Images came and went. He remembered the glory of the Citadel, and its great expanse mingled in his memory with the plains of Eden Prime, the fire and smoke and the smell of meat and fuel. He thought of his new crew, the names and faces he hadn't yet learned, and he thought of Jenkins, who died a foolish death while he watched his homeworld burn.

Shepard knew he shouldn't have brought the krogan aboard, a decision he would regret later, but there was something about the sight of that beast that triggered something in his memory, and he just had to. That Wrex was a formidable warrior made it easier to justify his presence, and as well the centuries of experience. He also shared Shepard's cynical view of Dr. T'soni, or whatever her name was.

For the upcoming mission, Shepard decided to place his trust in Vakarian instead. Although he thought he took the krogan's measure accurately, he didn't want any surprises when it was only him and Williams. Between the two of them, they could dispatch Wrex, but what of Dr. T'soni, geth, or Saren's mercenaries? Asari commandos? Who knew what Therum would have in store.

Vakarian was a better choice. Shepard had in fact discussed the matter frankly with the turian, albeit in the privacy of the captain's quarters-- receiving some quick, weird looks from the crew in the mess, but what the hell? He wasn't going to discuss shooting the krogan in front of the krogan. Shepard had liked Garrus almost immediately, since the clinic, not only for the incredible shot that freed the woman doctor but for his concern for her and his desire to hunt Saren. Vakarian understood that the crew might be uneasy with aliens onboard, as the crew of a turian frigate would be if the situation were in reverse, but he insisted each of them had something to offer.

Depending on how things went down on Therum, Shepard wanted a clean headshot from the turian agent. He wasn't going to take any chances with Benezia's daughter.

Shepard was so tired. He wished he could sleep before they got there. He wanted to bury his face in cool pillows and just drop off, but he couldn't, every time he tried he just lay there alone in his empty cabin. He just felt his heart pounding, and his eyes burning. He felt very hot and even two showers hadn't helped. He tried to make himself very still but it didn't feel like the room belonged to him, or the ship belonged to him, even though Anderson had handed it over and he had made some speech over the comm, and he didn't remember a single word of it. He never did, though, really. He always made good speeches, like his father had. The Shepards had all been good bullshitters.

He tried not to think of Anderson.

Anderson had put so much on the line for him. Always had. Shepard didn't want to be a Spectre. He just wanted to go back to his old unit. Or any unit. The _Normandy_ was a weird situation, a mash-up of marines and Navy tech types, and they all seemed antsy in his presence. They hadn't gotten off on a good start.

He hated this amp. It was making him excited, angry. He thought about removing it, but then he'd have to go through the whole thing all over again, wouldn't he? They told him not to try to use his powers too much without an amp. Well, what the fuck did they know, did anyone know, about this?

Shepard spent his jittery hours in getting to know his ship, although, with something of a paranoid edge. It was just too small in here, the smallest craft he'd ever served on, outside of the red wagon him and his sister used to play in as kids. He felt like the whole thing was closing in on him and people were everywhere. He thought he heard something scratching and crawling behind the bulkheads at one point, or maybe the air vents-- did they have air vents?-- and he had a moment of terror, before he was suddenly reminded of something else and went back to his cabin.

Digging through his dufflebag, Shepard wanted to know what he'd brought in his vid collection. It was a crime not to go into space without a proper Alien collection. Fuck III to V or VI, maybe, those were shit, but the rest of the series was as good as the first two, in his opinion.

Then Shepard decided to clean his boots.

Then he became too anxious and paced around, holding his head.

Then he was very thirsty.

Then he tried, variously, doing push-ups, laying very still and counting slowly, spinning unhappily in his ergonomic office chair, writing missives at his desk, checking mail, laying a cold towel on the back of his neck, tai chi, shadow boxing, levitating objects in his room, jerking off, and finally forming a curled-up fetal ball of despair in the corner of his private shower.

Then he was tempted very strongly to eat the bar of soap in there. His brain was making confused impulses that suggested it would taste like ice cream.

Then he decided to get his shit together.

He went back to cleaning his boots, and then the rest of his gear. He decided to mod his hardsuit. He decided to go down and talk to Adams and see if he could refit it with a physics threshold upgrade. While he was down there he got lost talking to the quarian, who spoke in the most wonderful voice he had ever heard, and they talked for a long time, possibly two or three years, and for the life of him he could not recall a single point of their conversation.

Then he had to march back down to the Core, angry now, because he had forgotten why he had gone down there in the first place. Physics threshold. Adams knew they had one and offered to install it for him but Shepard insisted he could do it himself.

He couldn't, actually.

Shepard never had to fit one before. You put on a physics threshold like a shock absorber when you expected to fight a biotic enemy. This had very rarely happened to him. He was always the biotic enemy. So he tinkered with it awhile and then decided to test it, lifting and throwing it against the walls to test its resistance. Hardsuits were always good practice, since they resembled the human body and had some weight to them. With the physics threshold modded in, the Onyx armor lifted clumsily. It was both heavy and slippery, like tossing and catching a bowling ball slathered in motor oil.

He was satisfied with its performance.

He had already spoken to Vakarian about the upcoming mission.

He discussed it with Pressly and then with Adams, but he decided they weren't going to land on Therum. The volcanic landscape was a concern, and the only nearby safe landing spots were likely controlled by the colony and managed therein. If they had to make a speedy getaway, it worked against their favor. It was best to play to the _Normandy_'s strengths and keep her in space, where she could slip away or hide if it came to that.

Shepard didn't want to be out here, but this was the only good and solid lead they had at the moment. It could very well be a trap. So be it-- he'd just be even angrier when he killed them. Saren had no idea who he was dealing with. He hadn't wanted to be a Spectre, but now that he was, now that he had those powers, he was going to demonstrate to the entire galaxy what happens when an alien decides to burn a human colony.

*******

Running a hand through his damp hair, Kaidan Alenko stood outside the captain's cabin. He waited for some sign that the commander had heard his request to enter; he knew Shepard was in there because the soldiers in the mess were giving him 'save yourself, run' kind of looks. One of them drew a finger across his throat. Another made the sign of the cross.

When the doors slid, Kaidan realized he never knew that the cabin was as soundproofed as it was. Shepard was lifting and slamming his suit of armor off the floor and onto the ceiling, twisting it around in a blur of dark energy. The commander was wearing only the trousers of his fatigues, and he was pouring with sweat, looking unhealthy, on-edge. This was sort of the mental image you would get if somebody asked you to visualize Crazy Johnny.

"Catch," Shepard told him, and Kaidan reacted with a startled motion. The hardsuit was dumped onto the ground with a heavier thud than he expected.

Shepard made a curt nod. "Now lift it."

Not immediately aware of what the commander intended, Kaidan nevertheless complied. He attempted to raise the armor from the floor but soon learned that it required a greater pull. The suit of Onyx armor was barely responding to the level of force he would ordinarily set upon it.

Kaidan had learned to manipulate objects by a sort of imaginary feel; he knew everyday objects and military targets best, such as a coffee cup or a man-sized unit of armor, and he would sort of imagine how they would look or feel if he set them into motion. Interested now, Kaidan allowed more power, visualizing a heavier target and the force needed to move it. He had practiced to the point of tedium with standard issue crates. Maybe something in that range.

The suit of armor lifted satisfactorily, first one end and then the other, with the arms and legs dangling bonelessly. One of the boots was dragging its toe on the ground. Kaidan was able to get it to levitate more stably, though the effort was considerably greater than he would normally have thought.

Shepard was watching him intently.

"You must have installed a physics threshold," Kaidan said. "I don't know if I've ever really had the time to see how one works before. You don't think about it." He added, "I don't think Dr. T'soni is going to attack you."

"It's like the Boy Scouts say, Alenko," the commander told him, in kind of a snotty voice. "Be prepared."

Kaidan let the armor drift and then drop. "Is this a bad time, sir?" he said. Shepard looked exhausted, on-edge. Sweat was slicking his skin and his eyes were red-rimmed. He looked like he had come in from running track on a summer's day.

"No, as it happens, I wanted to talk to you." Shepard made a gesture for him to be seated, and Kaidan waited until the commander had done so. Shepard was sitting on the edge of one of the tables here, though it looked like he might jump up at any moment.

Shepard jumped right in. "You think you're smart, don't you, lieutenant? Think you'll decide to step up and decide what's best for the crew? Think you'll second guess me because I'm a crazy fuck? That's what I'd like to know." He smiled. It was not friendly.

"Well, sir, when I raised my right hand and read my oath, I meant what I said. I'll follow the orders given to me, so long as they're lawful."

"See, about that... here's where it gets interesting," Shepard went on in a big, storybook kind of voice. "According to a bunch of muppets behind a podium, I'm a Spectre now.. and I'm above the law."

"Or are you? I don't see the Council giving Saren a pass for what he did at Eden Prime. They didn't shrug off what he did for his mission, whatever it is."

"They almost did. Good thing that little quarian came through for me." Shepard's dry eyes flickered over the empty cabin, and then he stared hard. "I need to know you won't try to fuck me, Alenko. I don't need you deciding I can't do my job and you've got to step up. If you have any reservations, you tell me now, to my face."

"Even if something happened to you in the line of duty," Kaidan put in obliquely, "it would be Pressly who assumes command. He's your executive officer."

Shepard's mouth tightened, and he began to breathe strongly through his nose. "Sounds good on paper, but Pressly's a nav, he's a tech type, he's a kindly older gentleman who goes by the book. He won't say boo to me, but look at you, strong, heroic type, with magic powers like mine. If shit went down, who do you think the crew would side with?"

"They would side with you."

The suit of armor suddenly thumped into the wall. It didn't fly high but the impact still surprised Kaidan. He kept his cool, but he felt his pulse hasten.

"You're being evasive." Shepard had this manic energy about him nonetheless, like he could chew through the _Normandy_'s hull without stopping.

"And you're being paranoid. Commander." Alenko spread his hands on the table, leaning back slightly, to look more relaxed and nonthreatening. "It's because you're tired. Sleep deprivation. It always happens like that."

"Don't you talk down to me." Shepard showed his teeth. "I know I'm tired. It's this damned amp. But I've had time to think while I'm up. I want to know, and you either answer yes or no, do you personally think I am a danger to this crew?"

Kaidan looked him in the eye. "No," he said.

Shepard cocked his head as though unbelieving, as though he now expected Kaidan to justify his answer. Possibly in essay format. He seemed convinced that everyone must hate or distrust him and any aberration from that norm had to be fully explained. It might be sad if it weren't irritating, and simply being in his presence was making Kaidan start to feel drained of energy. There seemed to be a physical weight to Shepard's stare.

"I understand you have a reputation, but I hardly know you, sir, and the events of the last couple of days.. well, they've been extraordinary." Kaidan paused. "Jenkins' death was not your fault. Nihlus either. Geth haven't been seen outside the Veil in a human lifetime; who could have known anything about what happened?"

"Nihlus wouldn't have taken a chance on me if he believed I was screwed up. The Navy either. They wouldn't have given me so much responsibility if they thought I was nuts. People just like to talk. Gossips. Worse than women."

Kaidan nodded slowly. It was important for Shepard to understand that he was on his side. "I think there's some entertainment value to it, commander. Like a tall tale, almost. But the men would follow you anywhere. They know you'll avenge Eden Prime."

This seemed to be the right thing to say, because the tense hold relaxed slightly in his shoulders.

Kaidan added, "As for your reputation.. well, a lot of what happened on Torfan must still be classified, because it's hard to really find any details on it. There's a lot of blanks.. and well, people fill them in. It's human nature. By the time the story gets around, it's changed half a dozen times and no one who was there would even recognize it."

"Well." Shepard huffed. "What do you want to know?"

"Anything you want to tell me."

The vanguard considered and he didn't say anything for a minute, just drumming his fingers on the table instead. "I didn't get half my unit killed like they say," he started, throwing that out quickly. "I didn't. I don't sacrifice my own men. Not even for batarians. Especially them, they're not worth human lives." He looked Kaidan hard in the face, as though trying to read what he was thinking.

"I believe it," Kaidan said. Jenkins' death had clearly disturbed Shepard and he was thinking of that. Though it had been to the lieutenant's surprise to learn that about his commander.

Shepard seemed satisfied with this response and he continued, saying, "I think the whole thing is so hushed because of the fuckup with my commanding officer, and, well, we didn't want to advertise some of the technology and methods we used in that operation. But mostly the fuckup with Major Kyle. Maybe. He finally cracked and things got weird." A snort.

"Well, what happened?"

"I had this new amp and it was bad from the start. It didn't work for me. I was overheating.. not like now, this isn't shit. I'm talking about blacking out and waking up in a tub of ice kind of overheating. It was my fault I wasn't telling anybody, fine, but I was trying to hold my shit together because the major was getting weird. If I fell back I was abandoning my guys to him, and God knows they'd have called me a coward." Shepard's brow furrowed as though he was trying to figure out what he wanted to say. "Torfan's this moon. No atmosphere. We had our drones with us on the surface and there were a lot of traps. If your suit ruptured you were fucked if you couldn't reseal it. I couldn't take off my helmet to take the amp out, not until we got inside. There were structures underground. The batarian stronghold."

Kaidan nodded for him to continue.

Shepard spoke quickly once he got started, and it was the most that Kaidan ever heard him talk. "We got inside and once you got through all the air locks, then you could hear how noisy everything actually was down in there, where there was air. Alarm systems going off, batarian voices barking and yelling over the comms. Everything echoed and re-echoed down there in the tunnels. Kyle started losing it, and we got into this argument, hell if I remember what about. I'm not saying I was the level-headed voice of fucking reason here, I'm no fucking hero. In fact, Major Kyle was the fucking hero, I'm not shitting on his service at all. He was a fucking paragon of the Alliance, and he shit gold. It's just right then on Torfan he just cracked. I'm just saying he was losing his shit and I called him on it. Then he relieved me of command and took my men away. He told me to fall back and get out."

Shepard ran a hand across his head. His hair was cut very short and resembled the growth on his face. "So.. I don't know, they went on, and I was just trying to take out my amp. Then I don't know. It was so hot in there and so loud. I took off my armor because I was cooking in it. It was like every bit of meat in my body was screaming I was gonna die. I was so thirsty. I don't know about what happened after that."

Kaidan smiled gently. "They say you ran around naked," he said.

"Yeah, well."

"With an axe."

Shepard let his hand slip back, and he was scratching at the base of his skull. The skin there was scratched red and raw. "I must have lost my pistol. I found the axe later, one of the batarians had it. It was a good close-quarters weapon, curved. You could swing it without hitting any of the bulkheads." He was arcing his hand back and forth in a slashing motion. "I wish I had one again because it went through bodies like warm butter."

Kaidan thought this through, and then he said, "None of the combat sensors would have discovered you if you went like that without your hardsuit. You were invisible to them. That's how you managed to get through the whole stronghold all by yourself, then."

"Yeah, I guess." Shepard sighed. "I wasn't really in the right state of mind." His eyes became hard, then, and suddenly the story was cut short. "I'm not crazy. Anything I said or did back there, it was because of the reaction I had to that amp. It plugs into your fucking brain. I'm fine now and this isn't like that."

Kaidan was surprised at the sudden violence in Shepard's tone, and then disappointed. He thought for a moment that he had been making progress. "Well, commander, they promoted you, so I don't think anyone of consequence really thought you were out of control."

Shepard had a brooding, bristling look about him. Kaidan felt like he had finally coaxed a mean dog into letting him pet it, and now the animal had its ears back and hackles up again. What did he do wrong?

"I hate it that there's no other leads but this one," he said suddenly, nastily. "It's obviously a set-up, but we've got no other choice but to walk right into it."

"Maybe Dr. T'soni can help us."

"Maybe Dr. T'soni can _blow me_. I'm not going to let Benezia's daughter put her finger on the map and tell me to go to some far-off haunted ruin. She'll either waste our time with a wild goose chase or she'll send us to the geth homeworld or something. And Saren will just laugh and smoke a cigar in the Death Star."

"We don't know that she's working for Saren and Benezia."

"It's her _mother_," Shepard said in such an impatient, huffy tone, as though it should be obvious. This made Kaidan wonder suddenly what Shepard's mom had been like, if he found it impossible to go against the wishes of a parent.

Kaidan shrugged. "They have a different culture," he said. "Who knows? We won't know for sure until we get there."

Shepard slid off the table. It was amazing he had managed to sit still as long as he had. "Well that puts my mind at ease! We won't know we're betrayed until we get the dagger in the back. And by dagger I mean me dying, failing as the first Spectre, everyone on this crew dying, including you the biotic wonder boy, and also the ship gets blown up too. And that little quarian." Shepard rolled his eyes. "What the hell. Carry on. Full sail to Trapulon V, what's the worst that could happen."

Tired of arguing with him, Kaidan countered, "I didn't think one little asari would bother you so much, commander. I think if it came to that, you could take her." A beat. "I think you ought to take your amp out, sir," he suggested, then. "It's about a day until we hit Therum. You should get some sleep."

"If I take it out now, then I'll just have to go through this again." Shepard shook his head. "I can beat it."

"You'll be exhausted on Therum. You're exhausted now. I can tell." Kaidan tried to make his voice gentle, reasonable.

"What are you, my nanny?"

"I'm just saying, commander. You might not even need to use your powers on Therum. I'll go with you and Williams if we're taking the Mako."

"You're staying on the ship. Write reports or something, style your hair, I don't care. Vakarian is coming instead."

"I'd like to know your reasoning."

"Vakarian is a crack shot. If she attacks, she'll of course target me," Shepard nodded to the crumpled suit of armor, "and then Vakarian puts a round through her head. You saw that shot he made in the clinic."

Back in that hostage situation, Kaidan had actually thought for a second that Vakarian was going to shoot through Dr. Michel to kill that man. It seemed like a cowboy cop thing to do. "Fair enough. I'll go with you and Garrus, then."

"What about this don't you understand?" Shepard was rubbing the back of his neck, shooting Kaidan an irritated glance.

"That's what I'm trying to say. I don't know why you're cutting me out of this mission when I'm your lieutenant, when I'm trained in repairing and operating the Mako, and when, well, when Garrus isn't a part of our military. I understand now why you'd want to bring him along, actually, but I should come instead of Williams."

"You'll hesitate."

"Hesitate?"

"You'll hesitate to kill her because they look like women. You'll make excuses for her."

Kaidan blinked.

Shepard pressed, saying, "You haven't killed a woman before, have you?"

"No, commander, I haven't," Kaidan began.

"See. You just seem the type. You wouldn't do it."

"I haven't killed a _woman_ before," Kaidan continued, "but I have eliminated hostiles, pirates, and other attackers who happened to have been female."

Shepard stared at him. His eyes looked hard and dry, like marbles. "Really, Alenko?"

"Yes. Is that really your reasoning, sir?" Kaidan wasn't sure where or how he had gone wrong in his conversation with the commander, or if it even mattered. The man was not well and obviously wanted to fight and argue.

"It's my choice, I'm captain," Shepard told him, then, in a tone of voice that belonged to a spoiled child deciding who comes to his birthday party. He was pacing again. "And I stand by my reasoning. I know your type. Always have to take the high ground, no matter if it fucks everybody else. You can still make yourself look good."

"I don't know where you get this from, commander," Kaidan said, with a note of irritation. "We've never met before this mission, and I've carried out your orders so far, haven't I?" He was thinking of Chora's Den and the pouring blood.

"I read your file. All those commendations. You're the favorite because you're a nice biotic, aren't you, you're a good, tame one. I bet you've never had to make a tough decision in your life."

Just then someone was at the door.

Kaidan wasn't going to take the bait from Shepard. He stood, instead. "Commander, if we're done here," he said. Anderson had warned him about Shepard's feelings on other biotics.

"I thought so." Shepard smirked a mean smirk, and then he said, "Well, what is it?"

"It's me, dearheart," said a pleasant, British voice. As Kaidan went out the doors, he found Dr. Chakwas standing there, smiling, a mug of tea in her hand. "Hello, lieutenant. Oh, don't go just yet, please."

Shepard was running his hands over his head. "Dr. Chakwas," he said. "What do you need?"

"Oh, I hate to bother you, commander," she replied, "but I can't move these crates into storage. I was hoping you'd do your little thing and lift them for me? That is, if it's no trouble.. " Dr. Chakwas had such a warm, matronly look about her that Shepard seemed somewhat mollified.

"Yeah, I got it."

Dr. Chakwas smiled. "Oh, thank you so much, dear. My old bad back.. "

Kaidan said, "Ma'am, I'll help too."

"I said _I got it_," Shepard hissed, leading the way to the medbay.

Kaidan cut a glance toward Dr. Chakwas, and found she was also looking at him, somewhat slyly. Sensing something, Kaidan nodded furtively at Shepard and made a motion at the back of his own skull, as to suggest, 'we should take out his amp.'

Dr. Chakwas winked.

The task itself was extremely simple. The crates offered little resistance and Kaidan secured them easily in storage; he noted that there was ample room back there as well, in case they took on new cargo, or in case he needed a place to hide and wait out his headaches. Despite the irritated dull ache he felt after dealing with Shepard, Kaidan hadn't had a full-blown migraine in a while and dreaded its arrival. Shepard would undoubtedly torment him in his moment of weakness.

"Thank you, boys, how kind of you," Dr. Chakwas said. She was warming her hands with her mug of tea. Before Shepard could march off, she said, then, in a deeply sympathetic tone, "You still can't sleep, can you, commander?"

"I was just saying that we should take out his amp," Kaidan put in.

Shepard had his arms folded now, looking sulky. "I can't," he said.

"If we take it out," Dr. Chakwas mused, as though this was the first time she really thought about it, "you'll be all rested up to go terrorize that poor woman."

"It's a trap, doc."

"Well then, if you've got to kill someone, why go at it tired and worn out when you can be bright eyed and bushy tailed? Then you won't have to go to bed angry." Dr. Chakwas smiled a kindly smile.

Shepard met her eyes, his brow furrowed, and then he relented. "Fine," he said.

"I'll take it out, commander," Kaidan offered, and Shepard seemed right about to let him before he evaded and smacked Kaidan's hand away.

"Easy, sailor," he said in a nasty tone. He made a 'well come on if you're going to' gesture to Dr. Chakwas, and then put his brow in his hand. He was still very surly but too exhausted now to put up too much of an argument.

Dr. Chakwas handed him her mug of tea while she did this, and she was able to unplug his amp with only a minor bit of fiddling. Shepard winced as she did this; it always felt weird to have it out. Kaidan was suddenly wondering if Chakwas' hands would be warm or kind of cold on the back of his neck. Maybe they would touch my hair a little, he thought.

Then he wondered why he was wondering that. He blamed Williams.

She then showed the small Solaris unit to the both of them, as though it were a tooth that she just pulled out. "There you are," she said, "let me put this up for you, and if you'll sit for a moment, commander?" Seeing Kaidan was about to step out, she added, "Also, lieutenant, stay a moment if you please. I wanted to ask you something."

Shepard seated himself and said, "I don't want that amp again, it's a shitty amp." He was holding her tea, which had become his tea. He was like a rude child sometimes, but Chakwas didn't seem to mind. He was taking sips out of it. Maybe he was hoping it would magically turn into coffee.

"Captain Anderson said you hadn't worn one in awhile, so it's best to start off with something low-powered," Dr. Chakwas replied. "Isn't that so, lieutenant?"

"Yes, ma'am. Aldrin Labs units aren't anything fancy, but they're the least invasive."

Shepard was remarkably tame while she scanned him, checking his blood pressure, his temperature, and so on. He was looking better by the minute, but still bad; he was terribly pale once the flush faded away and Kaidan could see blue veins under his skin. He'd noticed that back on Eden Prime, Shepard's pale complexion. Back on the space station, they called that an "Arcturus tan." He really must have been in paperwork all that time. Why in hell would you put that man behind a desk and give him paperwork? Or more importantly, why would you trust him to?

"They always give me the shittiest equipment," he mumbled, scowling like a cranky child who had been up far past his bedtime. "Figures. I'm surprised they let me have the _Normandy_ and not some cardboard box Hackett's new fridge came in."

"Oh, stuff," Chakwas said as she finished her scan. "You know the Alliance loves you and cares about you and wants you to go round killing as many people as possible. Remember when they gave you that shotgun? I remember when you came back the first day and we all feared you were deaf, you had fired it so much. Gave us a fright."

The tone of her voice made Kaidan smile. He couldn't help it. Shepard, either, because he had the smallest little quirk to his mouth. His eyelids drooped.

"Lieutenant, if you could just wait here a moment," Chakwas said. "I have to fetch something."

Shepard just rubbed his face now, like the past three days suddenly caught up with him. But the fight wasn't entirely out of him yet, and he growled like a dying wolverine. "I should have let you gone into it," he grumped over the rim of the mug. "They would have believed you."

It took Kaidan a moment to realize that Shepard meant the Prothean beacon, and the visions that the Council doubted. "Maybe, maybe not," Kaidan replied. "And I think you did what you thought was best. You tried to rescue me."

"Well, you were going right into it," Shepard complained.

"I know, I felt like I had to go near it," Kaidan said, wearily, "but I should have known better. Thank you."

Shepard snorted. He was making a kind of motion like he wanted to set that mug down. Kaidan suddenly understood and took it from him, and by the time Dr. Chakwas returned a half minute later, Shepard was out cold and on the slab.

The 'something' that Chakwas went to fetch now turned out to be a blanket and pillow from the captain's cabin.

"Ma'am, what kind of sedative was that?" Kaidan felt a flash of worry; you couldn't give dylithimide-based sedatives to biotics. It had weird side effects on people with element zero nodes in their nervous system.

Dr. Chakwas was tucking the pillow under the commander's head. He was limp as a doll. "The safe kind, don't worry," she replied. "He'll metabolize right out of it but I think his body is just so exhausted he'll stay under. I've given them to him before. You'd think he'd learn by now not to drink anything I give him, the silly bear."

Kaidan shook his head. "I don't know if we should reinsert the amp before the mission on Therum," he said. "Shepard seems to have had problems with overheating in the past. Maybe not a good idea for a planet as hot as Therum is supposed to be."

"Good observation, lieutenant," she replied. "I suppose we will have to see how he is when he wakes up. I should have removed the amp after Eden Prime, but I thought that he would acclimate to it while unconscious."

"Well, none of us could have known what he was seeing or experiencing while he was out." Kaidan shrugged.

"Do you believe him?"

"I do. Even the aliens still don't fully understand how Prothean technology works, and, well, a mass relay is technically impossible.. yet there they are, and everyone uses them. It's not so strange to believe that a rare Prothean beacon could transmit its records directly into the mind of a living being."

Dr. Chakwas nodded. "Precisely. I believe him also. It's just very unfortunate that he has acquired a reputation-- unfairly I might add-- of experiencing hallucinations. Nevermind that any strange business was completely justified by medical causes, which are now resolved."

A new thought came to Kaidan just then, and he said, "I think Dr. T'soni could vouch for him in front of the Council. She's studied the Protheans for longer than we've been alive. Maybe then we could get more cooperation."

"Perhaps. I suppose we'll have to find out where her loyalties lie. Though it'd be a shame to lose someone of her expertise." Dr. Chakwas smiled, then. "I'll let you go, lieutenant. Thank you for sitting with him. I'll be keeping him here to watch him. I hope he hasn't bullied you too much."

Kaidan smiled. "I'm a space marine, ma'am. I can take it." He nodded good day to her.

The doctor's voice drifted after him, a wry note in it. "Good day, lieutenant. But do remember.. he smells fear."


	7. Chapter 7

With stern eyes and a fierce moustache, his father's face filled the screen like a propaganda broadcast from an old-time totalitarian regime.

"Kaidan, my boy," he began, "I see this Yeden Brime and I recognize it immediately, immediately I know what is happenink. You maybe can't say because is classified. But I know. Yeveryone sees turian Spectre and geth, but dey don't know what is really. _Salarians_." His huge black eyebrows moved closer together than they already were. "_Salarians_ behind dis!"

Just offscreen his mother said, "Peter, honey, can you ask Kaidan what he wants me to do with his planets? I could hang them in Nina's room?"

"Dad," came Elena's voice from the background. "Nobody said they saw any salarians.."

"Nobody NEVER sees salarians! Dey HIDE!" The huge onscreen face turned as his father rebuked his sister. Then he stared piercingly again. Peter Alenko always stood too close to the camera in his strange transmissions, so he could talk right into it. "Dey _hide_," he whispered fiercely. "Dey make tings happen. Yalways plottingk, never shleep. You have to watch yeverywhere."

"I'm cleaning out his old room for Elena."

"I YAM TALKING TO MY SON. HE IS MY YONLY SON. DO I GET FIVE MINUTE TO TALK TO HIM? MY FLESH AND BLOOD?"

( "God, mom, I'll do it." "Oh, honey, no brothers want their little sisters to go through their things." "I've already stolen all his Star Wars stuff worth stealing." )

"Salarians WERY clever, Kaidan. You have to be smart boy, huh?" The huge face suddenly was pained: his father's mouth turned into a wobbly line, and his stern dark eyes became shiny. Even the moustache seemed to droop. "My boy is so smart, dey won't get you. Oh malchik! You be careful!!"

The huge face receded, and you could see that in reality, when he stood away, he was a scrawny, sinewy man, a full head shorter than his wife and daughter. He looked bittersweet and dignified, wearing his typical suit and tie with the cufflinks a grateful client had bestowed him. His whole posture was that of brave sadness and longing for his malchik. He always dressed up for vidmails, which was always weird, considering that he normally dressed in shorts and Hawaiian-type prints, no matter how bitter the Vancouver cold. Yet another mystery in the bizarre enigma that was Peter Alenko, infiltrator, captain (ret).

He seemed about to give up his time to his wife or his daughter, but there came a second wind, and fervently, he rushed back up to give his last advice: "Remember, dey come for you when you are tired. Get stims, yand a good shtrong knife for to cut dem necks open. Hyold on tight when you grab dem, " -- his father grabbed an imaginary alien in a headlock to demonstrate-- " salarians WERY shlippery!!"

"Hell yeah, Kaidan'll show those nasty salarians!" Elena had apparently revised her opinion and was now on the Kill Salarians bandwagon.

"I thought it was turians?" His mother looked puzzled. She was holding a very small boy's sweater in atrocious colors and a design that looked like it came out of the 70s... and not the 2170's, either. "Kaidan?" She glanced off screen for help, like a deer in headlights. "Is it still on? Do I just talk into it?"

"Yes, mom." Elena peeked into view, grinned, and waved. She was a tall girl with a thick head of dark hair, like him and mom. But it was clear who she got the eyebrows from. "Hey Kaidan. I'm moving back in with the spawn, I've got a job at the university now. So we're cannibalizing your stuff."

"Kaidan, baby? I'm cleaning out your old room for Elena, and, well, you know I didn't move anything so it's still how you left it, but. Well it's just that I don't know what to do with your things, and I know you're busy now, but.. " She was holding onto that awful sweater with an anxious grip.

Kaidan thought that she could just hand his stuff down to Van, he'd grow into it, probably. But his love for his nephew would prevent him from suggesting such a dire fate. Even if those kids made him watch The Lion King every time that he visited. All twelve of them. Back to back. He knew every word to every song, every line in every scene, and the power of love kept him stoic whenever they would put the disc in and that terrible red sun would dawn on the Serengeti one more time.

"I hate to throw out a perfectly g-good sweater, maybe I could pack it away." Mom was-- oh no, mom-- she was starting to choke up, now, and she was struggling to say, "Do you think.. does this still fit? No? My baby's got so _big_!" She wiped her eye on the sleeve. "What should I do? Here look at it." She held out the awful sweater and then put it up to the screen, accidentally blacking out the console. _Aw, mom.._

"Oh my God," Williams breathed.

"Yeah," Kaidan said. Then he realized Chief Williams was standing nearby. "Chief," he said, "how long have you been there?"

"I d'know, LT, I came to talk to you and then I saw that moustache, and I got pulled in." Williams made her dark eyes very big, as though she were completely spellbound.

Kaidan tried to hide his smile, clicking off the transmission and turning to face her, going into lieutenant mode. "What can I help you with, Williams?"

"I have no idea. I completely forgot now." She looked weary but in good spirits. She had that glow of someone who feels in their very being that they are in the right place at the right time, content with their lot in life. Although tragedy brought her aboard the ship, she clearly loved being on the Normandy and it seemed her place was always here. He liked that.

"I'm sorry I missed all the fun," Kaidan told her. "What was it like, the prothean ruin?"

"You would have never known how old it was, since it was really well put together. I couldn't believe their technology still works.. but well, I guess it isn't so surprising if we're still using their mass relays all the time. But mostly it was dark and full of killer robots. A shame about it being destroyed, though."

Kaidan nodded. "Well, it was bound to happen some day. The protheans built their city in an area of concentrated volcanic activity." He was sorry for the loss of the ruin, but it wasn't fair of the Council to complain about that to Shepard, not when they had previously left it there to be abandoned all this time. Surely they could have raised funds or tasked people to do something about it before the inevitable.

"Sorry you didn't get to come along. I tried to convince him, but commander hates you." Her light and teasing voice shifted then into a quiet and firmer tone, down to business. "I don't mean it like that, lieutenant. I don't know why, but it can't be anything personal if he doesn't even know you. I wanted to ask him about it but the turian was with us."

After a moment of consideration, Kaidan told her, "Shepard's the commander and he makes the decisions. Garrus was a good choice for the mission. He's an excellent shot, and his training would have come in handy if there'd been asari commandos. Apparently, he's had some experience in subduing biotics."

Williams looked unconvinced of his non-answer, but she didn't press. He wasn't going to discuss the commander behind his back, even though-- and especially because-- he had wanted to go down to Therum on the mission.

"At least it wasn't a trap," he said, then. So many bad things could have happened, so many destructive scenarios, that it was a relief to just find the asari scientist a victim of her own foolishness. However well-intentioned.

Williams smirked. "Too soon to tell. I'm going to go get a coffee.. I've got CIC duty in a minute. I'm so glad to just stand there for an hour, really, 'cause my butt is so sore from the Mako. I'll never sit down again."

This made him laugh. "Talk to you later, chief," he said, and then an afterthought came to him, as he glanced back at his workstation. "Williams, well, I guess you were able to get a word to your family? That you survived Eden Prime?"

"Yeah, as soon as I was able. I was kind of worried I didn't hear anything back.. I wondered if it got through, you know? But my family just knew I was fine. They weren't worried."

"I get this feeling that it would take a lot more than that to kill you, Williams. You're stubborn."

"Absolutely, LT." She drifted away with a smile, and then stopped, letting out a snort. "You want to know how concerned they were? My sisters were like, 'oh, so you're on that new ship now, that's cool, you know Shepard and that Kaidan guy are like oh my God sooooo cute, like seriously.'"

Before he even realized he was, Kaidan laughed a little, blushing; there was just something about her tone of voice and her general way of being, just that frank, blunt tomboyishness that made her easy to talk to and work with.

"I _know_. Well, go me. Livin' the dream." She rolled her eyes. "See ya, LT, I gotta get topside. You know, I like looking at the galaxy map, especially when a nebula reflects off the XO's head. It's amazing..." She made a starburst with her hands as she walked away.

Kaidan watched her go, and shook his head with a smile. Then he braved the rest of the transmission.

*******

Navigator Pressly watched Shepard up on the stand. He was gazing at the galaxy map and Pressly wondered what he was thinking; the past few days had taught him that he knew less about Shepard than any of his former commanding officers. It was not only that he was so young-- he could be Pressly's son-- but that he was so private also, and that his very nature was shrouded in secrecy. Biotic powers and abilities-- which were only the stuff of vids and legends when Pressly was a boy, and now reality-- were relegated to a one-line description in his brief profile, and read 'Satisfactory completion of biotic training, class designation 'adept'".

Torfan was only a footnote: 'significant use of powers against overwhelming enemy numbers.' Pressly wished he hadn't been so eager to discuss Torfan with the commander, but Shepard needed to know that he was on his side and that he had also fought the batarians. The commander had reacted poorly and Pressly was trying to work his way back into Shepard's good graces; it appeared that the young man had an interest in far-off planets and systems, and so now Pressly was sharing the sights of distant worlds and their readouts and trivia. With their proper names. Shepard sometimes got mixed up and would use the turian word for them.

Right now, Shepard was returning to the planet Klendagon, which Pressly had shared with him earlier. He was spinning it slowly, this way and that way. Pressly supposed that the huge trench on its surface was the point of interest for the commander. It was not believed to be a natural feature.

"They think a weapon did this?" Shepard asked him. He was running a fingertip across the holo of the world.

"Yes, sir, it's what the salarians believe, at least. They say the trench came from a glancing blow from some mass accelerator. Can you imagine?"

Shepard was closing and opening his hand over the world. "I wonder what they were really aiming at." Pressly surreptitiously sped the orbital scaling, and Klendagon wooshed out of the commander's reach just before Pressly paused it again. This appeared to amuse him. Chief Williams was watching them with quiet interest and curiosity; she was on post here for the moment, and Pressly was starting to like her. A good kid, a good soldier. Shame about the unfortunate name. Pressly would have changed it if it was him.

"Don't know, commander. There's no reports of damage on any other object in that system. Maybe they obliterated it completely."

"Like Alderaan," Shepard murmured, and Pressly wondered if he should know the word. Was that another turian name? Poor kid-- thrown to the turians like that. God knows what else they put in his head. It just wasn't right.

Melody Xuan was looking up from her console with a slight smile.

"The thing I wonder about," Pressly ventured, as he liked things like this, "is how they built a weapon that big in the first place. And where they built it. Did they tow it in from out of the system, or did they build it there? And why?" He'd had conversations like this with Adams, but there was a difference between Shepard and Adams on this matter; Shepard would wonder right along with you, whereas Adams would give an exhaustive lecture on physics and astronomy, eventually meandering into obscure and baffling topics.

"Maybe it was just one of the guns on a ship," Shepard was saying. "A huge ship. And no one ever needs a reason to destroy anything."

"Too true," Pressly murmured.

Moreau's voice was coming over the comm system now. "Commander, I've got the admiral. I had to pull him out of a meeting, but, anyway, you want me to patch him through?"

"Do it."

"Well, Shepard. It's Hackett."

Shepard straightened. "Sir, I'm in the Knossos System. We have Benezia's daughter and we're bringing her back to the Citadel. C-Sec can deal with her, she's their problem now."

"I suppose that's sensible. Someone will meet you there to brief you on the geth situation. We're getting an increased amount of geth activity on the edge of Alliance space."

"Saren."

"I don't know how he does it. I thought the quarians couldn't even control the geth."

"I think they're following him because they want to. They believe he'll bring back the Reapers.. or turn them into Reapers."

Hackett sighed. "They're machines. I don't think they believe anything, but maybe Saren has found some kind of device."

Shepard went on, saying, "I'm in a bind. I need a Prothean expert for this mission."

"I suppose you're right. With these incoming reports, there's no telling where he could be. There's a lot of geth activity, and we're talking planets, systems. If it's Protheans that Saren's interested in, we could bring someone from the Mars team out of retirement. You know they'd do it in a heartbeat. Someone we could trust."

Pressly had entertained similar ideas, and Melody Xuan had pulled up records and research with mixed results.

"I had some crew look into it already," Shepard said. "They're Prothean experts.. on the Martian ruins. For the rest of the galaxy I need an alien."

"I suppose you could find a salarian or something.. "

"They live too short a time to have personally visited even a tenth of the places we need to know about. And I don't know if I trust salarians."

"Liara T'soni is Benezia's daughter."

"I know. But if I'm alone on this.. I don't see any better options."

"Maybe you could talk to the Council yourself. Not Udina. I don't see what the hell else they're doing with their fleets. Sure as hell not doing anything about the batarians. They could spare a couple ships."

"That's what I want to do. I'm going to go to the asari councillor.. I want to mind-meld with her."

"Hell, kid, who doesn't?"

"I meant.. I want to share the vision with her. From the Prothean beacon." Until now, Shepard hadn't mentioned a word of this plan. Pressly blinked up at the commander, watching his face, but he saw by that moody and serious cast that Shepard was serious. "Then she'll understand the gravity of the situation. Saren is after some Prothean superweapon."

Hackett sighed. "I don't know. I don't like it."

"I've already thought about that, but I don't think she can read my mind and find anything sensitive about the Alliance.. or our biotics program. But that's part of why I called. There have to be some experts or studies on asari-human telepathy. I won't do if it they say it's a bad idea. I wouldn't do anything to hurt the Alliance."

"Shepard, do you really think it would convince her? And the others?"

"I think they'll have to agree once I show them the proof. "

"Shepard, that won't be good enough for them. They'll just say you're crazy, seeing things."

"I don't see things."

The admiral sighed a second time, and in a flat-out, no-bullshit tone, said, "Johnny, you once testified under oath that your imaginary friend helped you massacre the batarians."

_Oh, dear lord,_ Pressly thought. _Hackett doesn't know Shepard's in the turian CIC. Everybody heard that._

Shepard looked as stunned as everyone else, though he recovered more quickly and made his face blank. "That's not fair, admiral," he said quietly, letting go of the riser like it had suddenly turned red hot.

"You're on the record. But no, maybe not fair, but that's how people see you and they'll use it. The Council is going to maintain the status quo and it's an easy excuse for them not to believe you. You're in no place to try to convince anybody on any fuzzy, mystical grounds. You can't win that way."

The CIC and nearer bridge crew were all suddenly absorbed in their duties, and Pressly took some minor consolation that they appeared more embarrassed for Shepard than afraid, given this wild revelation. Williams looked angry, all of a sudden, defensive.

The commander didn't answer right away; he kept looking into the galaxy map, looking behind him. Pressly wasn't sure he wanted Hackett to know that he wasn't speaking to Shepard alone, but he had to say something to defend his commander. But Shepard saw him start to speak and silenced him with a sudden 'don't-you-fucking-dare' kind of look.

"Well, then," Shepard said, snapping back into it. Shepard looked like he was more determined to be more mad about the whole thing than miserable, though he tried to keep the anger out of his voice. He didn't want Hackett to know. "What do you think I should do-- sir?"

"I don't doubt the beacon contained some kind of information, and, shoot, I'll even believe Alenko's report that you were transmitted this information somehow. You can use that as a basis of where to look for Saren next, but remember what your goal is-- and it isn't an obscure point of ancient Prothean mythology. It's how Saren controls the geth. The geth are the problem here, not Prothean fairytales. When you talk to the Council, concentrate your arguments on what we know for certain."

"I still want my chance with the asari councillor. I won't just give up without trying." Shepard's voice took on a bitter tone, then. Williams gave a subtle nod of encouragement from the sidelines, though he couldn't have seen it.

"I'll have some experts rounded up and see what they have to say. But I'm making no promises. I don't want her looking into you, or any of this weird, mystical crap, if the risk outweighs any gain. And I've made clear what I think about this."

"There's another thing, sir."

"Yes?" Hackett sounded weary.

"I want the final report on the storming of Torfan. I want it sent to my executive officer and my chief medical officer. I want my crew to read it, so that they know that I didn't get my men killed, and that anything strange I said or did was the result of a bad amplifier interacting with my nervous system. I want them to know that I was fully cleared of any wrongdoing. I want them to know that my decisions are sound."

"Shepard. That was five years ago. If we thought you were honestly insane, would you have been promoted? Rumors and bad press are one thing.. but command decisions are another thing entirely. I wouldn't worry about it."

"No worries here, sir. I'm sure me and my imaginary friends could stave off a mutiny." Shepard smiled now, a cruel smile, and he was visibly fraying, losing his temper. "This is a small ship, Hackett. In deep space. Rumors and bad press are stronger than command decisions. I don't want fear and suspicion getting in the way of all those Prothean fairytales I wanted to investigate."

"Shepard."

"I was thinking after we get through nuking the Reapers, we could move on to Rumplestiltskin and Pinocchio. Because y'know what? Fuck Pinocchio in his lying puppet ass. He'll never be a real boy if I have any goddamn thing to say about it."

"Very well, Shepard. I'll have Miss Woods send along an abridged copy of the final report."

"Appreciated."

"Hackett out."

"So sorry about that, sir," Pressly said to Shepard. "You know, it's my fault, I should have said something."

The commander made a 'forget about it' motion with his hand as he stepped down from the riser.

"About the asari councillor," Pressly said, then, awkwardly.

"Pressly, are you an expert on alien telepathy?"

"No, sir, but--"

"Then I don't want to hear it right now."

Pressly nodded a 'yes, sir' and let out a sigh. He thought everything had been going well enough before this. He watched Shepard go, Chief Williams peeling away to follow him immediately. She looked ashamed with herself, as ashamed as Pressly felt for not saying anything earlier. But what could he do?

"Welllp," Moreau's voice came over the CIC. "That wasn't awkward at all."

Pressly was going to have to say something to the crew, then. Great.

*******

"Don't you have work to do, Williams?"

Shepard was in no mood for any sympathy, or to be followed. The damn ship was small enough as it was.

"Yeah, but, wait, commander," she was saying, and she added, "please," in kind of a quieter undertone, as though this was just as embarrassing for her as well. "Look, that wasn't fair.. your vision was real and it's important." Her quiet tone became stronger, as though she felt now that she should be angry for him, instead of embarrassed. "If your amp made you act weird back on Torfan, well, I don't see what's so hard to understand. Hello? It plugs right into your brain. You're lucky you lived."

"Hackett's got a blunt way of saying things. I've always appreciated that. Somebody like Kahoku would never say something like that to my face. And he makes my point for me. People think I'm insane. I need to prove these so-called visions are actual pieces of information from a Prothean computer. They need to understand that this is more than just Saren. It's important and involves everyone."

"I don't really think the aliens are gonna do anything to help us, anyway, commander-- I just really don't. Not the turians, at least."

"Know a lot about turians, chief?"

"No.. but I know about politicians."

"Well what the fuck else can I do? Tell me, Williams. If the Alliance and the Council won't help me.. who will? Who will I rely on? The daughter of the person who help destroy Eden Prime? Like I can trust her to put her finger on the map? She'll fuck us over and two hundred years from now, no, not even a hundred, maybe like twenty years, when this all blows over, her and her mom will be laughing and drinking cosmos like this all never happened. I should go down there and make sure that bitch never wakes up."

"You've got us, sir. You've got the _Normandy_."

"Do I really? For how long? Dismissed, chief."

He saw a flash of something across her face, and she lingered a second under his hard stare before she gave a salute and faded away. He made for his quarters with an irritated growl, hitting the wall twice on the way there, stopping only because people were in the mess. They stood immediately with an 'officer on deck', and he just hissed by.

Williams didn't deserve that. Hell, she was about the only person, aside from Adams, who didn't care about his reputation. Alenko, maybe, but he couldn't figure out Alenko and biotics were different, not to be trusted. He'd gone through a lot of trouble to make her stay permanent. Hell, he was still going through it. Why wouldn't they just accept her fucking transfer?

And shit, he just trashed her, but he didn't want her sympathy. If he just played it cool and hard, like it wasn't a big deal, then it wasn't a big deal. Soldiers didn't get hurt feelings. And everything Hackett said was true enough.

As soon as the cabin doors slid shut behind him, Shepard whipped one of the chairs up in the air and bowled it into a table. Then he flipped it up, and slung it around. His bag slid off the surface and went open everywhere, its contents flying. He loved the dark blue and black blur of dark energy, seeing it, knowing it was his will. Chairs and tables was nothing so grimly satisfying as watching the physical manifestation of his rage.

Then he saw that he had ripped an old paperback Dune out of his bag, and the bookmark had (_shit!_) slipped right out of it. Fucking great, he was going to have to slog through all that again, and like he'd have time before the Reapers came and wiped everyone out.

Shepard was pissed.

How in the hell was he going to find Saren, if they didn't come through for him? Even if they had him down to a planet, then what? It was as though somebody had handed him a map of Earth and told him to find some guy.. somewhere. The Great Wall? The Chartres Cathedral? Maybe a station on Antarctica. Or a koi pond on Hokkaido. A forest clearing in Germany. A McDonald's bathroom. A cornfield. The Sahara. A baseball diamond of an American high school.. in some state, somewhere. Christ, that was only one planet as an example, and there were millions of solar systems in the galaxy, billions. How was he supposed to have any fucking idea, when the Council and all its STG teams didn't even have an inkling of Saren's intentions?

This wasn't even what Nihlus wanted him for. Good God, if only he'd lived. If only the geth had just shot Saren the first time he saw them; if only they hadn't listened to his shit and stayed behind the Veil. Him and Nihlus could be well on their way now, on some adventure, who knows, just the two of them. They'd be in Terminus right now. They'd be at World-With-No-Law. Of course Nihlus wanted him to defeat the batarians. He knew what the turian was thinking. A mad, bad, crazy animal to set loose on the blinks. He'd do it, too, no remorse, and then everybody else could stand around saying they had no idea how vicious Shepard was, really, no one could control him and it's a shame (fingers crossed) about the batarians. He'd do it so they would never hurt anyone again. He still saw Janey in his dreams sometimes, not many times but enough to remind him why he was left to live. He still saw those last terrible moments, and how his father had looked, the stunned face of a man who could never comprehend such evil in the world.

But now Shepard was just mad, bad, and crazy with a different mission, one that involved cooperation and implicit trust in something that was admittedly a little strange. But he saw it. The beacon images were real-- confusing, splintered, but they were real. The Council had to understand this.

Shepard surveyed the destruction of his room. The victory was hollow, and he was feeling a sudden fatigue from the exertion of his powers. Rather than pull one of the chairs upright, he slowly sank to the floor. He had to come up with another plan just in case. If he couldn't trust Liara, he could just go where the geth are. Saren's controlling them somehow, promising the return of the Reapers. Or to turn them into Reapers.

Then he thought: _but if they won't help me, why should I bother? Saren's their mess. Let the Council deal with Saren, he's their creature, and the geth. Let everyone think I'm still after Saren, shout it far and wide, and secretly go into the Terminus Systems.._

With a sullen growl, Shepard put his head in his hands and brooded. He picked at the tangled mess of his ruined destiny, and then he started thinking a cold and evil thought, a tiny whisper in the corner of his mind: _What if the Reapers returned.. and took the batarians instead? Better them than you? Why would it matter, one way or another? Flesh is flesh. It makes sense, doesn't it?_

The idea was so simple, so perfect. _No._ He shook it off like an unwanted hand on his shoulder. He stood up. No. He couldn't just ignore Saren and give up. Not after what Saren had done. He had killed Nihlus and ended his mission, and ended every mission he would have gone on. Saren had killed all those people on Eden Prime. They needed an avenger. And Anderson never deserved what Saren had done to him. That, too, would be answered for.

Then Shepard thought: this is Anderson's cabin. I shouldn't trash it.

He scooped up the thing closest to him, which happened to be a plastic dinosaur, and with a weary smirk he took it and the back of a chair. He dragged it slowly to one of the consoles and set it up right.

_Might as well finish chief's paperwork. I'll make her remember that when the crew comes round with the pitchforks and torches._


	8. Chapter 8

Years later, decades later, people would always ask her about Johnny and how he rescued her, and truthfully she answered that she had been somewhat delirious at the time. However she also knew what they really wanted to hear. She would always tell then that when he was a young man he was very handsome, as anyone could see on the Codex, but in person there was just something so compelling about him that you could not look away. Perhaps it was the color of his eyes, or the intensity that was in them.

She remembered wishing, hoping that someone would come to save her, and how Shepard and his team had emerged from the shadows of the ruin. She forgot by then who it was that was on the mission-- had it been Vakarian and Williams, who always blurred in her memories as Shepard's right hand? Or was it Wrex and Kaidan Alenko, who had always been so kind to her?

Liara had fixed on one thing only, and that was Shepard himself, as he approached the glowing field that held her fast. She had never seen a human of the warrior caste before and her heart hammered in her chest. He was scanning for geth and she saw him in magnificent profile, before he turned his attention to her and pierced her with his cold clear eyes. The light of the stasis was a blue glow on his armor.

They gazed at one another through the force field she had accidentally trapped herself in. Then Shepard said, and Liara would never forget it, so long as she lived:

"And you've got a fucking Ph.D?"

*******

And so she was abducted by aliens.

It was only recently that Liara had dealt with the human species, and never so closely. She found them always so busy, always so nosy, always doing something-- so demanding, so impatient. How could they look so like an asari, and be so different?

All eyes were on her as she emerged from the medical bay. A wave of shyness had her looking back in, but the medical officer gave her a kindly look and a nod of encouragement. Unsure of the way she was expected to greet the others, or how she was supposed to behave, Liara only made a weak little smile and refrained from eye contact in passing by. She had heard somewhere that you shouldn't look in their eyes. No threat displays.

Although she couldn't be certain of what their body language meant in their culture, or cultures as it were, Liara thought that some of them looked curious. At least that is how she interpreted their expressions, at least if they had been asari. The similarities in facial structure were remarkable.

One of the humans at the mess table was speaking to her now. He had the blocky features of the male sex, the thickness of arms and body, and yellow hair that grew on his head and arms as well as the ridges of his eyes. His face was smooth and young. When he was born, or hatched, or well however it was that new human life was generated, she was probably out on a dig somewhere deep in her discoveries. They were all so young.

"Good morning, ma'am," his translator came across for her. "Did you get anything to eat?" He was eating something out of a cup and one of his compatriots leaned across to offer her one.

"I, yes, no thank you," she said. "I've been summoned to meet the commander."

"Yeah, commander's probably watching a vid or something up in communications," one of the others said, just as young as the rest. His pigmentation was darker than the first two, and from her recollection appeared to be the norm of the humans that she had encountered. "Can I take you up there?"

One of the others said, "No, hey, I've got it, I'll take her."

"I, thank you, but I don't want to trouble you--" she began, but it was no use arguing. She ended up with two escorts, while the other just grinned and helped himself to whatever it was that they were eating.

They made small talk. She was a little nervous and couldn't really keep up, but she supposed the important thing to take from the conversation was that they did not appear hostile. Yet. She had heard that humans could be very emotional and became angry at a moment's notice. She hoped that they did not blame her for what happened to their colony; as well, she hoped that her presence here did not upset any of them, either. She had heard that one of the soldiers here had lost his entire unit on Eden Prime. She hoped he was not in the mood for revenge.

The design of the ship reminded her strongly of a turian vessel-- not that she had ever been on one, but, well, she had of course seen documentaries and entertainments. The turians were completely absorbed in martial affairs and so even the most casual glance at their culture revealed something about the way they waged war. It seemed odd to Liara that the humans and the turians would cooperate like this-- after all, it seemed only yesterday they were locked in mortal combat.

The soldiers left her at the entry to the communications room.

Soft music was playing, an instrumental track that evoked a sense of unease.

Shepard was using the great screens of the communications room for several purposes. He had a document up and is working on it, the completely incomprehensible blocks of human language text. He was also watching an entertainment.

The ominous tone of the music matched the screen, where a figure in a hardsuit climbed up a mountain. He or she was accompanied by the armored form of a krogan. The way was perilous, and at the moment, the figure slipped and lost ground. Gravel and dust came loose and a stone fell, and the camera shot showed the long drop from the immense height. Liara thought distractedly that the landscape looked familiar. Was it the turian World-in-twilight?

Shepard had his back to her, and he was talking as he typed. A voice answered, buzzing up from one of the consoles, and Liara recognized it as the voice of the turian C-Sec officer that had come aboard. They were both speaking in the same language.

"Just so you know, I can kill you any time I want," Shepard was telling him, which in some turian cultures was the traditional farewell. He was using the familiar-abusive term of 'you'.

Vakarian responded with, "Yes, but then you will have to find another sniper."

A quick glance at the screen and Liara saw that the human and krogan had come to the summit of the mountains, standing before the forbidding ruins of a turian temple.

"Maybe I will let you live," Shepard told Garrus across the comm.

"Perhaps so, but I am not afraid to die."

Then a woman's voice said something in human, and although the translator didn't catch it, Liara believed she understood completely. Oh good grief.

Then Shepard spoke in his natural tongue, and the translator was in turian output. The human languages always sounded rough and guttural to her, and even moreso when he was testy. "Williams, I don't want to hear crap from you, I'm trying to do your transfer and I'm mad at you. After Garrus you're next."

He minimized the report and turned then to face her. "Liara," he said.

"Commander." She made a slight, uneasy smile.

Shepard said nothing further for a full moment. She began to wonder if she had erred somehow in greeting him. She had little experience with humans and none with their military. Not knowing what was expected of her, Liara hesitated, and waited for him to do something. His eyes were the lightest she had seen on a human, more like her people's, and they made him look very cold.

The entertainment continued in the background and its blue-purple glow was playing over his face. At this point there appeared to be contention between the two explorers, the krogan and the human. Before the great carved doors of the ancient temple, the krogan seemed to change its mind on their endeavor, such as it was, and the human was becoming angry at the krogan's reluctance. Liara had no idea what this was about, or how the humans had persuaded a real krogan to be in their little entertainments, but then, they would do just about anything for credits these days. She hoped that the human and the krogan weren't going to loot the temple, even if it were fictional; it would only encourage such reckless and irresponsible behavior which she as an archaeologist naturally abhorred.

The moment stretched on and Liara was growing more and more uncomfortable. Just when she almost blurted out something, just to say anything, Shepard spoke and his language sounded menacing to her. It was translated as, "What am I going to do with you?"

"I had hoped that you would allow me to accompany you," she replied, trying to keep a nervous tremor out of her voice.

He reached out and killed the entertainment. The screens went blank. "Then there's something you need to see," he told her. "You need to know what happened."

And he pulled up the ghastly footage of Eden Prime.

*******

"Don't you cover your eyes," Shepard told her. "You'll watch the transmission. This is nothing. You can't even smell the cooked meat smell from burned bodies. Smoke and fuel."

Liara pressed her lips very tight. Oh, he looked so angry. Oh, please don't be angry with her. She could never have done anything like this. She would have never helped anyone to do something like this, not even her mother.

"You see when they put that man on the spike, he was still alive. And when he came off that spike and attacked us.. he was dead, but the geth did something to him to make him come back."

"I don't know how Benezia could have allowed anything like this to happen," Liara whispered.

Shepard turned those cold eyes on her. "Then you doubt it? Are you calling me a liar?"

"No, no, no," she said. "The Council has ruled on it. The tape has her voice on it. I just.. this kind of horror is incomprehensible to me."

"Then I hope you learn quick. Benezia has gone off the rails. Her and Saren have enjoyed their little surprise attack, but that's it, that's all. They blew their wad. I'm coming after them and they're finished. Your job now is to cooperate with Citadel Security. You can still save your own reputation."

The footage blinked out and Liara looked away, touching a hand to her face. "I.. my request remains, commander. I still ask to accompany you. Saren will be searching among the prothean ruins and, respectfully, you will need someone of my expertise."

"I can't have you on board. You understand."

Liara swallowed. " I have nothing to gain by joining Saren and Benezia. All my life's work-- ruined." The last word came out in such a desperate tone, she nearly failed to recognize the voice as her own.

Shepard said nothing.

"It would be tarnished forever," she went on, "and my discoveries are too important to suffer because of me. I am taking the long view of this."

He continued to stare at her, and she fretted. "It-it wouldn't be fair to the protheans," she finished, lamely, she felt.

Shepard was toying again with his necklace, which she supposed was anomalous to the identification tags used by the military. Strung with the tags was a stone of a milky green color. Liara was not certain how to interpret his actions; was he becoming bored with her, or was he feeling pensive, or was he energized and working off the urge to strike her. He seemed to be a violent person with a very short temper. They were always saying how angry the humans could be..

"I wouldn't be a trouble to anyone. I only need a place to set my computer and that is all, I swear. You are still afraid I will betray you?"

"You won't-- at least you think you won't. That's not how you'll think about it. You'll get homesick or scared or just want mommy.. and you'll make a call, you'll send a message, you'll do something stupid, something you think is just insignificant, and you'll get my men killed."

Homesick?

"Commander.. respectfully.. but I think that our cultures are very different and perhaps you don't understand--"

"I know all I need to know about the asari." Then he got down to it. "Liara. I'm going to kill your mother."

"I.. I suppose that is how it may come to pass."

"Liara. I've killed a lot of people for less. What the fuck makes you think I'll just let her go?"

Liara swallowed. "I.. I'm sorry. I suppose so. Yes." She saw what had happened on that transmission.

"And you would just ride along with us anyway?"

"You are visiting prothean ruins. Why, I have spent all of my grant money on Therum, it would take years for me to accrue funds for another mission.. "

"So what you are telling me is that you are an honorless bitch who cares more about her little pet project more than her own mother."

Liara had to step back. She was at a loss at how to respond, and it was clear from his eyes that he expected a prompt response. What did he want from her? Since when were humans concerned about honor?

"I do not know what I can say to please you, commander. I am confused."

"I don't like traitors. You can't just sit by while I kill your mother. That's disgusting."

"She is party to the destruction of a colony! She follows a rogue Spectre who now leads the geth! And you heard her on the recording. The reapers destroyed the protheans! I do not know who or what they are, precisely, but it cannot bode well. Even if they are only fairy stories.. the fact remains that they represent terrible, total destruction and normal, civilized people wouldn't want anything like that to happen again."

"She's still your mother." He looked annoyed almost disappointed with her, if she read his expression correctly. The first thing she was going to do-- if he didn't kill and eat her at the end of this discussion-- was to sit in front of the extranet and not stand up again until she understood human behavior. What did he want?

"Commander. I respect your cultural differences, such as they are, but I must take the long view of things. I beg you not to continue in this line of conversation.. I fear we are odds and only serve to frustrate one another."

"So you believe the old stories about the _Machine Devils_." He used an old turian name for them.

"I have been finding a pattern in my studies. I wanted more time to study more ruins, of course, but I believe it may be so." She said, somewhat urgently, "That is why I wish to come along with you, Shepard. I can't put you in any more danger, when they are already searching for you."

"And if you have a sudden change of heart, we're all fucked. The best way for you to convince me, Liara, is to tell C-Sec everything you know about your mother's whereabouts, her assets, her networks, everything and anything."

He had given her the smallest, slightest reprieve and she felt absurdly grateful to him, almost overwhelmingly so. Liara would have been slightly unhappy with herself if she weren't so relieved that he was even barely considering her request. "I understand," she said.

Shepard made an expression like he just wiped her off his boot. "Good. Go."

*******

"I should have just shot her when I saw her," Shepard growled over their comm. "Said the geth did it. Who would know."

"Never too late for anything," said the krogan.

Garrus replied, in a deep tone of sarcasm, "Oh yes. And the geth did it. On our very ship." Although he appreciated the krogan's can-do attitude, he did not like that Wrex had invited himself in on their private conversation. Shepard had kept the channel live and allowed him to eavesdrop on his talk with Liara.

"Hey. Those geth are pretty clever. And you know humans love robots, take them everywhere."

Garrus had noticed that humanity enjoyed their little drones. In fact he was astounded to learn that a significant bulk of the Alliance Navy was comprised by synthetics. "I believe her argument had merit, at any rate. I wouldn't read too deeply into the matter of Benezia being her mother. The asari are different from your culture.. and mine. While I am certain that it pains her greatly, she will be considering these events from a lifespan longer than yours or mine put together."

Shepard made an irritated hiss of a sound. "It's not proper," he said. The actual word he used was 'galta', which in the Galatani dialect meant something between honor, duty, and filial piety or loyalty to the chain of being. The word itself was also related to name the New Galatani chose for themselves. The Honorable Ones. The Rightful People. And everyone else was sub-sentient excrement.

"If ya feel so strong about it," Wrex said, "we'll just cover her eyes when you do it. Get over yourself."

"I didn't ask you, you frog-eyed piece of shit," Shepard snarled over the comm. He did it in turian and his emotion matched his every word. "That is the first and last time you sass me."

"We gonna rumble, Shepard?" The krogan looked interested. He canted his head and looked toward the elevator, as if expecting the vanguard to pour out of it any second now. "I was hoping for some action. After Chora's Den, nothing. I'm dying over here."

"You're coming with me on station. Saren would be stupid if he didn't try to pop me again."

"I'll protect you from the bad men."

"Bullshit. I want to see you bite off somebody's head."

"Can do, commander."

Garrus broke in, "I will take Liara in for questioning. Conveniently, the Alliance docking bay is right off C-Sec Headquarters, so you won't have to worry about an ambush along the way. If I know C-Sec they will have heightened security for the Normandy's return. If you decide not to take Liara with us, she can be placed in a safehouse until we catch Saren. I suppose she could work on her notes or something in the duration. They live long, what's a couple of months to an asari." He added, "Perhaps we may use something of an intermediary. She may still provide counsel for your mission, but remain on the station. Captain Anderson is still your liaison?"

"I don't want her to get snatched off the station the instant I turn my head." Garrus thought he heard the commander sigh. "And I don't want to make the embassy even more of a target than usual."

"From what I can ascertain, Captain Anderson can handle himself. He has an impressive record."

"It's the principle of the thing," Shepard growled. Fine. Not galta. "Anyway.. where's Williams?"

Garrus glanced along to the unmanned workstation, where Williams normally cleaned her weapons, polished her boots, and ignored any attempt at conversation from the turian agent. "I believe she is currently in the CIC or mid-deck," he replied, and he added, somewhat delicately, "They are discussing the matter of the Torfan report."

"You read it?"

"It was beamed to my workstation," Garrus answered, "but no. It's none of my business. And they were only batarians."

Wrex blew out a big snort. "You're wasting the opportunity, Shepard. A krogan biotic uses his reputation to instill fear in his subordinates. Explain nothing. Give nothing away. In fact," the krogan went on, a deep rumble beneath his words, "you should execute one of your men as an example to the others."

Shepard made an irritated sound and clicked off.

"Don't know why he tries to hide it," remarked the battlemaster. "It's just the facts of life. A whole lot of biotics are on the crazy side. The docs cut open their brains, what can you expect?"

Garrus folded his arms. "I would think the human surgeons would show a little more finesse than that. They're very cautious about the safety of their own."

"Bah. Something gets nicked in there, big deal, you just work around it. Learn to use it, a feature, not a bug. Happens all the time with the krogan." Wrex snorted. "Least it did before you engineered the destruction of our species."

*******

"Fish dog?" Pressly said.

"Varren. From the planet Tuchanka." Adams always did a high-low motion as he poured out their coffee. His eyes were watching the stream. "That's how."

Pressly sighed, and pressed a knuckle against his eyelid. "That's how, what? You've lost me." He had stayed up three hours into his sleep-shift to read and re-read the report beamed from Arcturus. It hadn't said anything about varren, but then, there were only so many dozens of pages a man could read about biotic amplifiers before his eyes glazed over. Such was the power of HQ that it could even make Torfan boring.

"Batarians are known to use varren as attack dogs," Adams replied.

"I know that. I served with a marine who lost a hand to a varren. What does it have to do with this report?"

Adams was extremely precise with the amount of sweetener that he spooned into their mugs; it had to be completely levelled off before he would do it. "I was wondering how it was that Shepard was able to bypass the entire security system in the complex. Especially in the state that he was in. He didn't have any shields and a single shot from an auto-turret could have killed him."

"Shepard wasn't wearing any armor. Their security system wasn't based on infrared. It was supposed to look for hardsuit signatures and he was just in his underwear."

"And why would they go on hardsuit signatures and not infrared?" Adams gestured with the spoon. "Fishdogs," he said, in a tone of deep wisdom.

"All right. Yes. If you've got your nasty alien attack dogs, you don't want them blundering into your auto-turrets if it's all based on body heat."

"That's interesting to me. Base design." Then he handed Pressly his mug. "The thing I find most interesting about this report is that its entire conflict revolves around varren, essentially. The major question in the trial was: is Shepard insane? And he wasn't. If only they paid attention to practical details, such as the reasoning behind hardsuit signatures versus body heat detection, there would have been no need to press further. Instead they asked Shepard how he got through all the traps; he told them honestly; then the whole trial devolved into a question of sanity and the supernatural. Didn't have to be. It wasn't about imaginary friends or hallucinations. It was about a security system based around attack dogs. Anybody could have gotten through that bunker the way that he did."

"It wouldn't have lawyers would have found another angle. Someone had to take the fall for Torfan and it wasn't going to be the Major." Pressly shook his head. "Kyle was a hero."

Adams shrugged. "I don't know that anyone had to take the fall for it. We all know the risks when we came to the service." A pause, and he smiled a vague smile. "I'll tell you about the other frigate I was on."

"You already did. The _Nieuwpo__o__rt_." Pressly shook his head. Sometimes he wondered if Adams was like this before that incident, or if his calm attitude was something he developed afterward. Pressly got an ulcer just thinking about it.

"Did I? Well. There you are." Adams sipped his coffee. "I don't think there will be any problems on this ship. Of course everyone will understand. Everyone's a professional. Some bright kids."

"That, or even if we've got some Nervous Nellys, the desire to serve on the Normandy will outweigh any concerns about the commander. So far as I can tell, he'll still take orders from Anderson. Owes him a lot by the look of it."

Adams nodded. "No big deal." He took his coffee and lifted it in goodbye. "I'll leave you to it."

*******

Backlit by the galaxy map in the CIC, Pressly said, "Ladies. Gentlemen."

Down in the mess, Kaidan took a headcount and said, "All right, guys," as he waited for Jaz to catch up to the group.

Pressly rubbed a hand over the back of his head, realized he was doing so, and then stood straight. "I have asked Ms. Xuan to send the report to your workstations and I trust you have read the document. I know it's lengthy, even with parts of it still blacked out, but it's nothing if not thorough. No one's to blame for the losses on Torfan."

Kaidan had half-rehearsed a speech and then junked it. Just a talk like this one would go over better, he figured. "All right. So, what we have here is an opportunity to clear the air. In a way, kind of a good thing. Honesty being the best policy. We lost some good men on Torfan. I think we would have lost even more if Shepard hadn't done what he did."

Pressly scanned the CIC and its expectant faces. "You younger folks might not know who Major Kyle was, back before he got sick. He was a hero and that's how I want to remember him, not the confused man he is now. I'm sorry for what happened to him. I'm sorry about the whole damn thing, to be honest. In the trial it was Kyle and all his medals against Shepard, who is what he is. At first glance I can see how people would make their judgment. The details of this episode seem incredible, and well, so is his own testimony."

"So. Well," Kaidan was saying, below decks. "I know what you're thinking. The commander wants you to see the report to show he's not crazy.. and hell. At first glance the report looks even crazier than we thought." Alvarez smirked, and Fredericks hid a laugh with a quiet cough. "But if you go through it, step by step, it makes perfect sense and as you can see toward the end, clearer heads prevailed. But yes, ladies and gentlemen. The kill count is accurate. That is not a typo."

Pressly rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm sure that if Major Kyle were in his right mind, he would have never wanted any of this to happen. His concern was for the men he lost, but it wasn't fair and it wasn't worthy of him to let the lawyers chew up Shepard like that. Shepard was his man too. And well I know the report looks grisly. The Butcher of Torfan. But the docs and that specialist said he had a momentary lapse because of his bio-amp, and, well, I want you to recall what colony Shepard came from. The batarians killed his entire family. If you ask me, they got what was coming to them."

"For those of you wouldn't know," Kaidan was saying, "the scientist who came in to testify is our foremost expert on bio-amps. She teaches at the Grissom Academy and she knows what she's talking about. Shepard's hallucinations and unusual behavior were the cause of a bad reaction to his amp. Uncommon, but it's been known to happen. I just want to say that Shepard knew he was hallucinating after the fact and was cooperative in the investigation, to the best of his ability, which unfortunately I think the lawyers used as ammunition against him."

"Ladies and gentlemen," Pressly went on, "you are all professionals and I know you will act like professionals. You were all hand picked to come aboard the Normandy. This is a historic ship with a historic mission. Shepard is our Spectre and though there's been a lot of stories and rumors about him.. I think we'll all come to see the man he really is. Captain Anderson believes in him, and so should we."

"Some people might try to use this to discredit Shepard," Kaidan said. "They'll say he's seen things before and that he's just seeing things again. But you know that's not true. We've all learned in school about prothean beacons and the discovery on Mars. A man once said that any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. We don't understand how prothean technology works.. but we know some of what it does. I believe Shepard. I think even his detractors believe him, deep down, they just don't want to commit." Williams met his eye and nodded almost imperceptibly. "But I saw it happen and so did the chief. You can trust us, and you can trust me when I say that there's nothing wrong with the commander. I'm proud to serve under him."

After a moment of studying the young, inquisitive faces, Kaidan asked, "Does anyone have any questions? Were there any terms that you didn't understand, or something you want clarified? Jaz?"

"Sir, what's a singularity, isn't that like a black hole?"

"A singularity is the name we gave to a biotic phenomenon that behaves a little like a black hole. It's not really well understood yet. As you could see from the report it probably caused a lot of chaos in the cramped command center, pulling batarians up into it. In close quarters like that, anything that wasn't nailed down would fly up into it. I'd have to read it over again but it possibly had an effect on the electronics as well."

Jaz and Nick exchanged a furtive glance and even before the words were out of his mouth, Kaidan knew what the young marine was going to ask. "Can you make one?"

"No, I can't. Generally it's the presence of that ability that marks someone as an adept. Not always, but it's that level of ability that changes what field someone's classed into. I'm what we call a sentinel. I can glow and look scary, though."

Alvarez cut in. "So he lost his powers?" Kaidan had learned that she was a pragmatic individual who would put up with anything, but she had to know what she was dealing with.

"Technically, yes. He's lucky to be alive, but it doesn't look like he has any lasting brain damage. I don't think he can make a singularity anymore, or place objects or people in stasis. I would have seen him do that in the fights we've been in. I'll have to ask him, but I don't think so. You've seen him in armor and carrying a shotgun. He's been reclassed as a vanguard for the last five years."

Fredericks, of course, asked, "So that kill count's correct?"

"Yes. I checked twice, in fact. Impressive. He must have taken them completely by surprise when he entered the command center, since the security system ignored him when he was out of his armor. His singularity must have taken most of them in such close quarters, giving him time to kill them without retaliation. Biotic damage to the computer consoles-- as well as from the batarian axe he was using-- damaged the systems integrity. The majority of the casualties came from the malfunction of the bunker's environment systems. Essentially they all suffocated to death. The commander certainly didn't go around to every module personally killing them all with an axe if that's what you mean."

"But he could if he wanted to, right sir?"

Kaidan smiled. "Are there any more questions?"

"No sir."

"All right. If you have any questions, concerns, come to me. You know where to look. I have to get down to engineering but even if you've got the slightest issue on anything, I want you to talk to me first. I mean that. This is all too big for us to start second-guessing each other. We're a team, remember that. You're dismissed."

He was so glad to have that over with that he didn't immediately realize that they were all still standing in the mess when he left.

*******

When he was gone, Chief went up, and Nick suppressed a grin. Ohhh, shit.

"All right, fairies," she growled. "You heard the LT. Smarter people than us have given the go-ahead. Shepard is your commanding officer and you will follow him without question. What the hell are you looking at?"

"Nothing, ma'am!" Fredericks sang out.

Chief glowered at everyone like they were pieces of shit on a living room carpet. Classic tough love and Nick hoped he wouldn't giggle by accident, like he did last time during morning exercises. Chief had singled him out and made him sing the Alliance Navy song while he did jumping jacks, which had been awful, because of a terrible singing voice and half an erection.

"I'm not going to keep you long," Chief started up again. "Because I can't stand looking at you." She glowered some more and then she said, "I know he said he saw a magical little girl lead him through all the traps on Torfan, but he knew it was bullshit. It's just that they asked. He was spiking so high I'm surprised Ronald McDonald didn't lead him to battle. Do you get me?"

A chorus of yes, ma'ams. Nick decided the trick was to stare at the wall above her head so as to appear to be looking at her without actually having to.

"You little shits have probably seen as much," Chief was saying now. "I bet you see all kinds of things when you booze on shore leave. So I don't want to hear shit. So I have a question for you. My question is, are you going to stand with the commander, or are you going to side with the slimy lawyers that tried to hang him?"

"No ma'am!" Fredericks cried out.

"No what, Fredericks!"

"No, ma'am, Private Fredericks does not side with the slimy lawyers. Lieutenant Commander Shepard is a crazy son of a bitch, ma'am, but he's our crazy son of a bitch!"

"Damn right," Chief said. "Now listen to me. We're a team here. You look after your team. Major Kyle might have been a hero, but he should have stood by his people. He shouldn't have let them do this to Shepard. You have to think of your people first, and you do what's the best for them." Williams was looking very closely at all of them now, and Nick met her gaze for only a moment. "You got it?"

"Yes, ma'am."

In Nick's opinion this could have lasted all of five minutes. The first minute could have been the explanation that their commanding officer was best known for killing dozens of the enemy with a batarian axe and jedi powers, while near-naked and trippin balls. The next four minutes would have involved a lot of high fives and then cracking open some beers.

HQ could really be out of touch with the common soldier sometimes.

Chief nodded slightly, only a little, like maybe they all weren't a bunch of shits after all. Maybe. "Let me remind you," she said slowly, "that Major Kyle is now calling himself Father Kyle. He lives in a bunker somewhere. He's got a wacky cult out there with him now. I remind you, Father Kyle is now a wacky cult leader. Lieutenant Commander Shepard is now humanity's first Spectre. He's got to save the galaxy. Now do any of you knuckledraggers have any questions? I will straighten you out."

Alvarez was trying to hide a smile.

Jaz piped up. "Ma'am," he said, "does this mean we are now authorized to remove our pants during combat?"

"I can't answer that at this time, marine. You are to obey Shepard's orders, so I would tell you just to watch him and follow his lead."

"Aye, ma'am."

Nick knew she was going to be mad, or at least act mad about it, but he just couldn't help himself. "Ma'am," he said in his most earnest tone, "are we authorized to bring our own imaginary friends on the shore team?"

Chief gave him the stink eye, but she replied, "Negative, keep all imaginary friends stowed and secure in your locker."

"Ma'am," Fredericks said, then, in a reasonable tone, "I don't know if I speak for all of us, but I'm cool, it doesn't bother me, and I'm glad to know the real story behind Torfan. It sounds like we'd have lost a lot more guys anyway if Shepard hadn't gone all commando."

Jaz added, "Yeah, I'm just sorry that the rumors and stuff, that they made him upset. I'm cool about it, too, I'm psyched to be here."

"Yeah," Nick said, "and I don't want him upset. I reallly don't want that.. "

The Chief almost smiled. Almost. There was a little glimmer there but she had to pretend to be all tough again. Instantly everyone was a shit again. "All right, you maggots. It looks like you get the picture. Good thing I used small enough words. But you remember what the LT said, and if you have any concerns, you go talk to him. Now. You are all going to get on your face and give me twenty, because we have a mandatory eval in two days, and because I'm tired of looking at you sad old sacks."

*******


	9. Chapter 9

"... in order to minimize the risks of a security leak.. "

"... whereas we _do_ have evidence that supports the beneficial properties of an injection beforehand, that is, in a controlled environment.. "

"... although some might consider a full joining to be-- ah, controversial, I humbly submit that the necessity outweighs any-- ah, any discomfort from our cultural norms, that is, try to see it like an asari, and ah-- it may be the best way to maximize the transmission.. "

Admiral Hackett leaned across his desk and killed the last of the messages. He sat a moment in frozen consternation, and then moved his hand from the console to a dish of mints.

He was still weighing Shepard's request to mind-meld with the asari councillor. Hackett didn't know exactly what Shepard saw in the prothean beacon, but Shepard insisted he needed to show it to the Council. And what good that would do, Hackett didn't know; they weren't likely to change their opinions, or even agree to the request. Shepard had to understand he was alone on this one; the Council wasn't going to give anything but token cooperation.

Hackett had to admit he was surprised by Shepard's behavior. He hadn't thrown Benezia's daughter into a pool of lava and he hadn't dismembered her over a live call to her mother. Not that Hackett actually thought that he would, in particular, but he had been concerned what Shepard would do once he realized he was beyond the reach of any laws. So far he only seemed to want to do things the right way.

Chewing slowly, the admiral idly touched the ship-in-a-bottle that sat nearby his dish of mints. He turned it to get a better view at the miniature tallship, a gift from a friend lost in the Theshaca operations. _They're setting us up to fail again_, he thought. _Just like Anderson_. There's no way that Shepard can do this all by himself. The galaxy's huge and Saren has too many networks and assets. Hackett was going to have to divert human resources to assist Shepard and fight the geth; the Council sure as hell wasn't going to. They would never allow themselves to be convinced that they ought to help stop Saren and Benezia.

"Where did we dig up these people?" he asked his secretary as she stepped in on low heels. He made a motion to the screen. For the past hour and a half, he had been reviewing the advice and suggestions of human experts who weighed in on the risks of mind-melding with an asari. Hackett supposed he didn't care if Shepard wanted to waste his time with the asari councillor, but it was another thing if she could look into his head and steal Alliance secrets.

"They're the big names in their field, sir," Miss Woods replied. "Captain Akigawa found two of them from the academy so that we would have a more.. informed opinion on the matter."

"Well. So far I've got half of them saying to give Shepard the go-ahead, and the other half wants him to tape on a tin foil hat." Hackett sighed. "And then that last big thinker says Shepard should 'fully join' with her to 'maximize the transmission.' What is it with these eggheads and the asari."

"I don't know, sir," Miss Woods replied in her chipper tone. "I thought it was enjoyable, but I wouldn't do it again. Here's the OSD from Lieutenant Garcia, sir."

Hackett smirked. Well, that was Miss Woods for you. "Miss Woods," he said, "forgive an old salt, but if I'd have known you were such an expert on that subject I would have asked _your _opinion."

"Oh, sir. Hardly an expert. Only an amateur." Vintage Miss Woods. It was that prim old-fashionedy look about her that fooled most people.

Full joining. Christ on a crutch. Who comes up with this horseshit. On second thought, Hackett considered, maybe he ought to tell Shepard to screw the asari councillor. Sure. Why not. In the Presidium Tower no less. Just order him to maintain strict eye contact with the turian councillor the entire time. Let him know who's the dominant species.

Miss Woods gently set down the OSD as she passed by his desk. It was the report he had requested on the profiles of the batarian slave market. "You don't need my reminding, sir," she said, "but if you don't like this, you can call it off. Respectfully, I don't believe it will make any difference."

_Neither do I_. Hackett popped more mints in his mouth and then reached across to begin the extranet connect to the Citadel embassy. "I'll have to give it more thought. We're going to need more cooperation from the Council on this one. We've got more important things to worry about and we can't just drop everything to clean up their mess." Dear God. He was in the middle of realigning their forces anyway to fight incursions on the Verge. Almost half the hulls that he needed were still in construction.

"The lesser of two evils," Miss Woods said. "But you know they'll never commit. Why make an effort when the primitives can do it for you. Coffee, sir?"

"An old dog like me knows better to hope otherwise," Hackett replied. "Thank you for the disc. And suppose I will take a cup if you'll put some on."

Though she did not know the full details, she always had a good grasp of any situation. There were some on Arcturus who whispered behind their hands as to why Hackett chose her, or trusted her as he did. It was true she had a softly glamorous look reminiscent of women in the time of the Second World War, but she wasn't all lipstick and nylons. She was the middle daughter of that cunning old leopard, Captain Jamila Constance Moyo, who had for some arcane reason permitted Oliver Woods to marry her. Good old Skinny Ollie. What in the hell. At least Miss Woods exercised more wisdom in choosing men than her mother had.. by avoiding them altogether.

Hackett rummaged around in the mints dish while he waited for the connect. He spared the OSD a glance. He'd have to get to that later, but soon. Damn! If only the geth had shot Saren the moment he stepped into their crosshairs. This whole mess could have been avoided. By this time, Captain Anderson could have helmed _Normandy_ into the Verge and Commander Shepard could have taught the batarians to rue the day they ever touched down on Mindoir. _There's just too much happening now._

The link went through and he heard Udina's unmistakeable accent. "This is the ambassador," he said, curtly.

"Hackett. Is Anderson with you?"

The captain's voice rippled over the comm in affirmative. Hackett suspected he had just interrupted an argument between the two of them. Probably more about that damn titty bar shootout.

"Well gentlemen," Hackett said. "I've considered the reports and I trust that you've read and weighed them in turn. I'd like to know your thoughts."

Anderson spoke first. "I think it's a good idea. Even if Saren and Benezia do not believe the vision from the beacons, the fact remains that they hold the vision important. Enough to destroy a colony for. If the Council refuses further cooperation by discounting the vision, what better way to convince them than to actually show them? The asari are famed for their mind-meld ability."

"I don't like it," Udina said. "I don't want them looking into his head. Think of the security risk. The things that he knows."

Hackett frowned. "That is my assessment as well. I believe we can agree on something for a change."

"She would only see what he wanted her to see," Anderson went on. "They can't just reach in and pull out details, it isn't like that. If that was possible then C-Sec would have asari officers trained to do so in an interrogation. The human mind naturally resists any probing attempts. Admiral, I believe this is important enough, well worth the risk, however small."

"Do you really, Anderson? You believe him?"

Without hesitation, the captain persisted, "If Shepard says so, then I believe him." He added, in more of a sober tone, "And what of the report from the dig team. The archaeologist who interfaced with the beacon before its capture by Saren. He's made claims similar to Shepard."

Udina made a noise of annoyance. "And you would do well not to bring that up!" he cried. "That man was rambling and insane! I don't need to remind you that we are hurt for credibility."

Hackett also read the report from the Eden Prime rescue team. Dr. Manuel's feverish claims echoed what Shepard firmly insisted. A shame that the man opted to kill himself-- as had the other man who first interfaced with the famed beacon on Mars. The amazing discovery had been tainted by that shocking event, whereby the researcher had cried, 'Too many and not enough,' wept uncontrollably, and opened his throat with a medbay scalpel. Earth governments were wise to have chosen to censor those particulars.

There was now some rumbling of an argument in the embassy. The admiral scowled.

"That's _enough_," Hackett said. "The only reason I'm even considering to allow this is because Shepard wants to play nice. He wants to cooperate."

Anderson jumped on this. "Respectfully, sir, I told you Shepard's a good soldier. He always cooperates, it's just that few give him a chance." Hackett was starting to feel like the beleaguered father whose teenage daughter insists her scruffy loser boyfriend is God's gift to mankind.

"He has just shot up a bar full of people!" said Udina. "I'll never hear the end of it!"

"There are more important things in life than hurdles in your career, Udina," Hackett replied.

"I am the human ambassador. I represent Earth."

"As I understand it, the men in that bar were out to kill Shepard. I don't need to tell you what's more important, the lives of Shepard and his team or your social standing with the aliens." Hackett took his coffee cup from his secretary. "I'm concerned about the risk."

"A small, small risk," Anderson said. "It may help to request a trusted third party to mind-meld with him instead, if you're concerned about the councillor herself. And in any case, I have to wonder if there's anything Shepard would know that the salarians wouldn't. We stand to gain much more than we have to lose. We need help, Admiral Hackett. We need more ships. Shepard can't stop Saren and the geth all by himself."

Hackett suppressed a sigh. Miss Woods came by, as if by magic, and clinked some more mints into his dish. He was going to need them. "I want to know something," he said, slowly now, weighing a new idea. "Where are the other Spectres in all this? If the Council blows off Shepard, which they will, as sure as the sun rises, I want to know if there's someone else we could get in on this. Someone with more resources and less bullshit." He sighed. "Can't we get a salarian interested in this?"

Udina said, "Well.. I suppose there is that, but do you really want them to take all the credit?"

"Ambassador.. you don't know how hard it is to find someone in space, do you? And when they don't want to be found?" Hackett rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"So far as I can tell," Anderson said, "the other Spectres are probably involved in missions already. As you know, the batarian situation is worsening and I believe the Council is occupied with events on the edge of the Terminus System." A pause. "I believe that's part of the reason Nihlus was interested in Shepard."

"Well." Udina's voice held a tone of reluctance. "I do recall there being a Spectre here on the Citadel. Retired."

"A turian," Hackett said.

Anderson sounded almost eager, as though he could be in her balcony garden in twenty minutes. "What's her name?" he said.

"I don't remember," Udina replied. "An old turian. I only saw her briefly. It was a ceremony shortly after I came to the Citadel to be the ambassador. But I am sure she still lives here, somewhere-- but I don't think she would help. By any means. In her last days as a Spectre she was cutting human throats in the First Contact War."

Hackett frowned. "Then some help she'll be," he muttered. "If anything she might run interference for Saren." Nothing was ever easy. "Ambassador Udina. I want you to go to the Council and request a mind-meld to share Shepard's vision. Go see what they have to say."

Udina said, "You're going to make me stand up there before the Council and make a fool of myself."

"All part of the job, ambassador." He paused with his fingertips on the lip of the mint dish. Better leave himself a way out of this. He added, gruffly, "I still reserve the right to say no on this, but Anderson's right.. one man can't stop some ancient superweapon."

He started to hear "Thank you, sir" and the beginnings of the ambassador's protest, but he cut communications before he had to listen to any more of it.

"Hope I haven't just made a mistake," he grunted.

In a reassuring yet patently cynical tone, Miss Woods said, "Oh, sir-- they'll never admit that they're wrong," and she smiled.

"True enough the whole galaxy over, looks like."

"At least when Saren Arterius shows up with his world-destroyer, we can tell the Council 'I told you so'."

"I prefer that's not the case, Miss Woods, thank you." Hackett raised his eyebrows.

"I'm sorry, sir. How do you like the coffee?"

*******

Until Eden Prime, Ashley had never met a biotic soldier before, let alone two at once. Sure, she had seen them in the mandatory personnel video that everyone had to sit through, which like every other mandatory vid treated you like you were a brain-damaged gorilla crapping in a diaper. But to see one in flesh and blood, and to see what they could do? At the time she had hardly known what to think about anything; the geth attack overwhelmed her entire experience, turned it all to fire, smoke, and the screaming of dying comrades. When the geth came for her, and then started turning blue and flying around, she thought it was just par for the course. She was losing she saw Shepard and Alenko.

She was grateful beyond words for the rescue. It wasn't that she would have just died. She was ready to go when it was her time. Chin up, eyes steady. She'd get right with God. But she couldn't bear to have her body violated and disfigured as the geth had done. Turned into one of those things. Her heart still ached when she remembered the most gruesome moments of the battle, when the twisted bodies of fellow soldiers returned to fight on.

Her place on the _Normandy_ was almost too good to be true. She expected the captain to drop her off at the next stop, but Anderson had put aside some time to talk to her, to judge her worthy. She had never served on a ship before-- as though they'd ever let her!-- and she had never been part of a crew like this one. Instead of backwater boredom she was now part of a vital mission. She wasn't going to screw that up.

It was important to her that everything worked out with the crew, at least the soldiers now under her command. The commander didn't need any more distractions. She felt for him. She knew what it was like to fear others distrusted you.

Ashley found him in the communications room, still awake, always awake. It seemed you could find him on any shift; he never slept, seemed like, always cleaning his gear, checking the systems, lifting weights. Always on duty. His hard attitude made her wonder what he was like outside of all this; in the Mako ride on Therum, an adventure all of itself, she sensed a playful side to his personality in his relentless ribbing of their turian companion. _What's that, Garrus? You don't like the jump jets?_

At the moment she heard him talking with Pressly. She kept her distance, waiting at the mouth of the chamber until their conversation finished. From the darkness of the room she supposed he had a vid running, and though it was probably muted, she still could not hear the particulars of what he discussed with the navigator. Something about a relay and a rendezvous with a cruiser. They must be getting close.

"Sir," she said when Pressly appeared, stepping aside for him. He gave a curt but not unfriendly nod, and then she heard Shepard bark, "Williams, get in here."

Shepard was standing against the blue-toned backdrop of _Indiana Jones and the Cave of the Ancestors_, and judging from Indy's predicament, it was the tail end of the film where things really got good. Shepard had his arms folded, a scowl on his face, and she almost smiled, because his forbidding posture exactly mirrored the onscreen statues in the temple of the ancient turian civilization.

He must have gotten in the mood from rescuing their own archaeologist. He probably watched a lot of vids since he didn't sleep much.

"Sir," she said. Was he angry? She could never tell if it was for real. He seemed so intense all the time anyway. Who would know.

"I'm going to get my way in the end," Shepard told her, "but something's come up. You should know about it."

Instantly she knew what he must be talking about. "They've denied my transfer request," she said. He nodded once. "On.. on what grounds?"

"On bullshit. This is the second time I've sent your paperwork. They claimed that the first copy wasn't the correct form. The second time is a payroll issue. I know damn well that they're just tickling my dick over this. I worked at year at HQ and I know how it goes. They don't want you on this ship."

His blunt words hardly reached her. Ashley's mind was racing ahead, and she felt a groundswell of defensive anger. Shepard was staring at her, point blank, and she tried to keep her face from showing too much, but it hurt. "No, I didn't think they would," she said. "Can't say I'm surprised."

She'd wanted to tell him somehow. She had wanted him to know, as her commanding officer. Then he'd know why she would do her job to the best of her ability, and then some. She wanted him to know what coming on the _Normandy_ meant to her, and even before she was ready it was blown back in her face. Her fear now was as real as on Eden Prime.

"I want you to consider this next part very carefully, Williams," he said. "I don't like bean-counters second-guessing me or giving Captain Anderson the finger. We both know you're a good soldier and you've turned out to be a good fit on this team. As acting captain of this ship, I have full control over who comes on board or not, and for fuck's sake, I've got a krogan battlemaster in the cargo hold. You're going to stay on this ship but I need to know what you did to make them hate you so far as HQ."

She was going to tell him, and oh God, wasn't it obvious, but he put up his hand in a shut-up motion. He took on a truly intimidating look that the dramatic lighting didn't really help with, a blue glow around his head from the vid that silently went on. It was the part where Indiana Jones was feeling the effects of the poison, and the look on Indy's face was of pain and anguish as she realized that the turian witchdoctor betrayed her, and her krogan partner-accomplice had left her to die.

Ashley braced for impact.

"We all fuck up," Shepard said. "We all piss people off. Sometimes people hold grudges and you get fucked for it down the line, in ways you didn't imagine. When I said I worked in HQ for a year, it was because I pissed off the wrong people. I deserved it though, I fucked up. Now I went around in your file and I've seen all your shitty posts, your bare-minimum satisfactories, and I want to know why an otherwise accomplished and qualified NCO is treated like a leper. Be honest with me, because I'm prepared to fight for you, and I don't want to be blindsided by something stupid and embarrassing that you did. I'll only be angry if you lie to me."

"I'm General Williams' grand-daughter," she said. "I know what that looks like to people, but I love the service, I want to be here. I've never done anything wrong." The lump in her throat cracked her voice. "I've tried to be so good."

Shepard was making an expression she couldn't figure out on first look. Almost a scowl. In a tone that became downright menacing, he demanded, "Swear to God, Lord Buddha, and Chesty Puller."

"I've had to fight twice as hard to get where I am," she said, trying to keep from sounding angry, but she didn't know what to think of what he just told her. "Grand-dad paid for it. Dad paid for it all his life. And me too. I.. I understand if you don't want me on the ship. I mean how it looks. But-- " No. No, she couldn't just cave in like this. Don't look at his eyes, ice blue, look above his head, look at the movie. _You like this vid and you've seen it every Thanksgiving._ "I was going to tell you. I wanted you to know I'm a Williams. I want to clear our name."

Onscreen, Indy was staggering pathetically now, near to collapsing on the temple floor.

Shepard made a grouchy, almost _whiny_ face, and the rigid aggression went out of his body language. "Oh, for fuck's sake," he complained. She felt her own shoulders droop with relief; he didn't care. "Can't believe they're wasting my time with that shit," he said. "Here I thought you were being punished because you sold supplies to the black market, crashed a couple of Grizzlies, or went around stone drunk all the time."

"I don't give a shit about this," he told her, then. "When the batarians came down on Elysium, it wasn't any big name or a famous general's son that fought them off. The Hero of the Blitz was born in the gutters. It's about you and what you can do." She had felt such a wash of relief that she let down her defenses, and his next words stung. "General Williams was wrong to surrender, you _never_ surrender, but the turians would have killed everyone, man, woman, child, down to the last pig and cow on that world. That's a fact."

"They were all starving," Ashley insisted. "He was thinking about his men. He always looked out for them. He- he was the Old Man."

Shepard waved a hand. "You heard what I said." She feared that her face had given something away, because the hard glint went out of his eyes. His tone became mild as he went on, "The Navy should have given him the chance to redeem himself. It was a unique situation. It needed a unique solution."

Ashley steeled herself. "Sir, I just want to stay on this ship. I want my chance. I know you need a Gunnery Chief. You need someone who's fought the geth, and well, I'm one of the few humans who's faced them so far... and lived to tell about it."

Shepard nodded. "Right. That's why you're staying on here. Make no mistake. I told you I'm going to get my way. You're a good soldier and HQ can shove it. I'm not going to let them switch you out so they can give me some dumbass politician's son. I'm not doing _you_ a favor here Williams." He seemed annoyed at her girlie emotions.

"Thank you anyway, sir." She had the curious feeling of having done something wrong, or having acquitted herself badly here. Any other time she would have just sucked it up, saluted, and went on her way, burying it down, but she felt stung. Worse, he knew it, smelled blood.

He was studying her for a moment, and then he said, "You know, Garrus figured it out before I did. He asked me about your last name, but I told him it's common. Wasn't like a clan name." Behind him onscreen, the vid was reaching the best part of _Indiana Jones and the Cave of the Ancestors._ The dying Indy had finally realized her mistake and wrongdoing, having come to the old turian temple to steal its treasure, and it seemed all hope was lost and that she was all alone among the millenia of turian dead.

She said, "I guess he read all about it in school." What did they say of General Williams? That he weakly submitted like the lesser race should?

"He's not that bad, you know," Shepard went on, and his tone was easy, like they talked all the time. Shit, he must have known he hurt her. She didn't need boo-boos kissed. "His little birdie feelings are hurt that you won't talk to him. He thinks he's offended you somehow."

"Well," she said. "Turians are supposed to be tough. He can deal with it."

Shepard smiled.

"He's all right, I guess," she added. "Look, um, about Torfan."

He nodded for her to continue. Onscreen, dying of the witchdoctor's poison, Indy was visited by the ancestors after all-- figures of the past, her past, the enlightened and adventuresome namesakes that came before, who were scholars and heroes and not petty tomb raiders. Ash had seen this vid countless times but the scene never lost its appeal. She found herself slightly amused that Shepard, despite everything, was even glancing over his shoulder to catch the good part.

"Everything's square with our guys. They're really surprised over your personal kill tally... and they think if we all work together, we might be able to beat it." She hoped that would go over well with him, and his slight smirk told her so. "They're really excited about you and tell all kinds of stories. I never knew about you until I came on the ship, but you have a pretty wild reputation."

"All hearsay," he said. "Thank you for talking to them. I don't give a shit what people say about me.. but I don't want my guys worried I'll get them hurt. That's bullshit. And I'm not _crazy_, for fuck's sake."

"I know."

For some reason he appeared annoyed, all of a sudden, as though he didn't like that she was agreeing with him so readily. He said, in almost a taunting tone, "So what do you think about me chopping up all the batarian bodies, then? Arms, legs, heads."

The Butcher of Torfan.

"You were really out of it," she said. "And.. they had it coming. They killed your whole family.. I heard about that."

Shepard didn't look interested in her sympathy. It must have been another lifetime to him. A bad dream. Matter-of-factly, he replied, "I wasn't thinking about it at the time. I don't know what I was thinking. The mission I'm best known for is the one I hardly remember. It was like I wasn't even there." Slightly annoyed, he added, "I'd rather be known for some the missions I had under Captain Anderson's command."

"Major Kyle shouldn't have let them do that to you, sir. The commander should always look out for his men." Her voice came out more softly than she intended.

That hard look came back. "It's over and done with, Williams. I trust the report from HQ has settled the issue-- with the men, at least."

"Yes, sir."

"The aliens can say what they want. Fuck 'em, they knew what they were getting. They wanted a crazy motherfucker to kill batarians, and now they can't just puss out because I've got to go after their golden boy instead." Shepard shook his head.

Ashley raised her eyebrows. "I guess I didn't think about it before," she said. "That they originally wanted to make you a Spectre to fight the batarians." Stationed so far out, so far from the front or any meaningful activity as in the Verge, she had reached her rank without any real confrontation of humanity's enemy.

"Yeah. Nihlus' idea. The turian who was with us on Eden Prime." There was a bitter anger in his voice, like he considered what could have been. "What a fucking waste. You'd think some of the other Spectres would take revenge on that coward piece of shit and save me the trouble."

"Looks like they're on their lunch break. Or out fighting batarians. Either way I guess it's more convenient for the humans to take care of this one."

"To tell you the truth, Saren's got a lot coming, a lot of shit he's got to answer for. I'll be happy to throw that fucker into space. I never knew why Anderson was shunned when he had so many medals and commendations. Or why he stood up for me when everybody turned on me.. " he trailed off and his voice had taken on a quiet, thoughtful tone, as though it all made sense to him just now. She knew it had to be hard to have left the captain on the docks and zipping off in his rightful ship.

Abruptly it wasn't any of her concern. He was all business. "Fine. Then that's that. I talked to Pressly and Alenko." Poor LT; he probably tried to be all nice and understanding. "And the captain; we're going to hit the relay soon. Do you mind if I turn the volume back on." He did so. It was the part where Indy's tomb-raiding accomplice came back for her, after all, grumbling in his deep krogan voice all the while about all the credits they could have made.

Shepard folded his arms. "In the next system we're going to meet up with an Alliance vessel, probably a cruiser or even a supply ship, probably a patrol there with her. I need you and Alenko to get all the marines. The whole shore team is going to swap over."

"Aye, sir... but what about the _Normandy_?" She didn't immediately grasp what he intended.

"She's too high profile right now, so she'll hang behind. You, me, the ground team, and most of the aliens, we're going to go in on the other ship. After we've been safe on the Citadel for a couple of hours, Moreau will take the _Normandy _in and dock her for fuel and inspection."

Ashley nodded as it dawned on her. "So we're expecting trouble, then. Saren's still got his people crawling around the Citadel."

"Right. And the media is swarming everywhere besides. Lots of excitement. Lots of shit I don't need. The xenos are all whining about the titty bar we shot up, saying I'm a blood-drinking primate, and that's stupid, primates don't drink blood. Anyway, Garrus is going to take Liara down to C-Sec, which is right off the docks. I'll be hearing soon if the asari councillor accepts my request."

"You know she won't, sir."

"Just do as you're told, Williams. Everybody should get their gear. Make sure it's all working, the shields, oxygen, and everything. Test the oxygen mix. I'm going to show you a magic trick later."

Well what could that mean. "Yes, commander." A pause. "About my paperwork, sir. You said there was a payroll problem?" She hated to bring that back up, but she would at least like to know what kind of excuse they were giving.

"Don't worry about it. I'll straighten it out from Anderson's office. I have full say over who comes onboard, and if they give me any more hell, the paperwork's a technicality. If I wanted to, I could photocopy my ass and beam that back to HQ."

Ashley smirked. "Well make sure you get Pressly and Alenko's signatures on it," she said.

"Hell, that'll go great with my tattoo." He snorted. "Get out of here Williams."


	10. Chapter 10

The star system was known to the humans as Theta Mu Lambda, and to the asari as a name that meant, roughly, _The Gate of Mysterious Anticipation_. The star here was of an unremarkable type. It had attracted no followers and to anyone's knowledge the entire system consisted of only that star and a whole lot of nothing. Why the protheans had seen fit to waste a precious relay here, no one knew. The relay led to the Citadel, as so many did, and this system was sometimes used as a staging area. As it was now.

A small contingent from the 63rd Scout had halted their patrol here: two wolf-packs of frigates, the cruiser _Vladivostok_, and a friendly survey vessel. There in space they waited with the stoic patience expected of them, though in the intervening time the marines of the _Bannockburn_ had developed a crush on the survey vessel's comm officer, and begged their captain to hail the _James Cook_ again.

When the _Normandy_ blurred through the relay, a cheer went up through the command centers of the small patrol. The frigates immediately fell into formation and streamed by in a configuration of importance, but one of them slipped away from the others and came up for a closer look of its half-turian sibling.

The _Normandy_ responded with a playful roll and then shot forward in a burst of speed. The _Bannockburn_ rotated its thrusters. The race was on.

"--and, in any case, that is, I, _oof!_" Liara fell as they were filing into the airlock. Alenko, fortunately, caught her and put her right. "Oh, I have stepped on your foot, I am so sorry," she went on, lamely, feeling lame, in fact, as she tagged along with all the important and powerful-looking marines. "I was just hoping that you would, ah, that you would consider my offer and well I wouldn't take up any room at all, I promise I would bring my own food and, and--" _Oh, goodness, they looked so forbidding with all their visors down, you couldn't see their faces at all!_ "--and well, if not, that's all right, I understand, I suppose, but perhaps I could message you and you could send pictures! I of course would answer _any_ questions you have--"

"You remember what I said," the commander's voice came out thickly from the faceplate. "I'll decide on the Citadel. It's in your best interest to cooperate with C-Sec. Tell them everything."

"Well of course," Liara said. "I, well, I suppose this might be goodbye, then, if you change your mind, so, well, I am sorry for everything that happened on Eden Prime, and you, Williams, for your unit. You are such a _brave_ man.. "

An annoyed sound came out of the white armor. "I'm a _woman_."

Liara almost whimpered. "I'm sorry, I can't tell," she said. "Er, about humans. I'm still learning. But thank you, ah, for rescuing me, and remember, if you have any questions.. "

One of the marines reached out suddenly and squeezed her hand, one of the younger ones she supposed, they had always been so nice to her, those young men. Garrus was making a sound of turian amusement.

"Commander, contacted the _James Cook_," Joker's voice came over the airlock's system. "Going to start airlock procedures. Link-up in five, boarding in ten."

He added, "Hey Alenko, you have to let me know what their captain looks like. Daaaaamn."

"All right," Shepard grunted. Only his eyes could be seen with the full faceplate on. His every breath hissed through the internal oxygen filter. "Vakarian, Liara, Alenko, good luck. Remember the rule of three and stick together, I don't care what C-Sec says. Don't let Liara out of your sight. Liara, don't go with anyone alone. If anything happens out there, don't try to get back to the docks. They'll expect you to do that and that elevator's a choke point anyway. Get out and go through the Wards instead, try to get to a safe place. Vakarian knows his way around. Stick together."

Garrus nodded firmly.

"Aye, commander," came Alenko's voice from his bizarre tech faceplate. So many little lights were fixed to it. He looked like some sort of wise insect.

"Ladies, gentlemen. Ladies mistaken for gentlemen. Pair up and prepare to get _very_ cozy with your new friend. Breathe easy, don't panic. Don't freak out and keep your friend from freaking out. As for you, _Poopsuit_.. " The tone of his voice thawed out just so, and he clapped a hand on the quarian's shoulder. "You're with me. It'll be just like old times for you."

*******

It was barely the first hour of his shift and Yeshek Ortalna was ready to die. Formerly, when discouraged, dejected, or outright humiliated, he had often wished that the floor would swallow him whole, or that the keepers would pick him up and scurry him away who knows where.

Today, feeling particularly sorry for himself, he entertained the histrionic notions of ritual suicide, the kind you saw in turian period dramas-- the robes, the perfunctory death song, the calling and naming of the ancestors. _Lo, my fathers, it is I, Yeshek Ortalna, and I have finally had enough of this shit.. _

At the moment he was standing behind his workstation, like everyone else, and he was enduring a blustering rant from his supervisor about the importance of today-- or tomorrow, or whenever the _Normandy_ came in-- and how nobody better fuck it all up.

Residual instinct from his time in the service had Yeshek Ortalna braced with military bearing, but as the ranting, threats, and overtures to turian honor went on-- and _on_-- his leg started to ache. Three months ago he had been a dashing Patrol officer, or at least had seen himself that way, until his involvement in a nasty crash that left him with a compound fracture and the tedium of desk assignments.

When the unit head had run out of invective, threats, and backhanded appeals to cultural shame, Yeshek Ortalna sighed with relief.

Sinking back into his chair, he stared at his inbox, which coincidentally refreshed with yet another wave of messages clamoring for attention. At least five of them along the lines of "[all divisions] SECURITY MEASURES UPDATE!!!!" and one of them, "???how is my babby????" with an all too familiar sent-from line. _Mother, please. I'm an officer in C-Sec now. Have been for years. A C-Sec officer.. _

Yeshek hooked a claw into his desk drawer and pulled just so. In this drawer he kept the two most important tools of his trade: his Haliat Armory pistol in Nathak Crimson... and a bottle of antacid.

He took this bottle now and, unnerved by its silence and light weight, he popped the top and turned it over his desk. Only a trace amount of gritty powder came out. _Oh, not you too. _Feeling betrayed, Yeshek took the bottle, glanced at the rubbish container by Votho's desk, aimed, and threw.

"Must you?" the salarian whined. "Not only did you miss, but I remind you, _again_, that these are perfectly recyclable."

Yeshek Ortalna sighed. If his mandibles could flex any wider, they would break off. "Sorry, Votho."

"As you undoubtedly saw in the memo that went around, the waste situation on the Citadel is _not to be taken lightly_, and if we all just tossed our garbage around as we pleased, we would be living in a giant trash heap in space, and furthermore, it is _our duty_ as _C-Sec officers_ to set a good example.. "

Ortalna eyed the _other_ item in his open desk drawer.

At that moment, Avala Tanar stuck her head in the doorway and yelled, "Ho ho, we got one!"

Yeshek's inbox refreshed again. A message from Tela appeared, subject line, "re: about last night.. "

_Fuck._

"I'm going on break," Yeshek announced to no one in particular. He took the pistol and strapped it on.

Despite the cramp in his thigh, he was still able to catch up with Avala Tanar, who had two cups of something in her hands. She was an on-again, off-again lab technician, pleasant, eager to help, bright but slightly scatterbrained. Whenever the C-Sec environment became too stifling for her, she tended to disappear for a couple of years on some tangent or another. Yeshek almost envied the asari their ability to just get away from it all for decades without repercussion. Almost. Each person has certain responsibilities.

"Heyyyy, Yeshi, did you hear?" she said, holding open the elevator with her rear end, of all things. Whatever happened to the natural asari dignity? It was his opinion that Avala was spending way too much time with the humans.

"You only yelled it into the whole room," he said. Once inside the confinement of the elevator it became impossible to mistake the identity of Avala's drinks. _Ugh. Way too much time with the humans._

"I'm going down to see Kap Joru now, he probably has all the inside poop."

"I hate that smell."

Avala blinked. "What, poop?"

"_Coffee_," Yeshek growled, and the asari beamed a huge smile at him, like oh-ho, silly me.

"Anyway, he's a tech guy, a turian, he used to be part of Saren's team. I think he's turned himself in."

"Is that it?"

"Like I said, I'm going to go find out more. I was getting coffee when I heard about it. Ya know me, in the lab all day.. they don't tell us anything."

Yeshek sighed. "Probably a trap," he muttered.

Her expression softened. She reached out and touched a warm coffee cup to his shoulder. "Hey. Is everything all right?"

"Of course. Nightclub shootout. First human Spectre. Saren's spies everywhere. Asari commandos on the loose."

"Did Tela tell you that line about wanting to see other people?"

"Let's try this again. Asari commandos on the loose-- "

Avala cut in with, "She's a bitch, Yeshi. We all told you." Then she added, almost an afterthought, "I wouldn't worry about asari commandos. That rumor pops up everytime it gets wild here on the Citadel."

"Oh. So Saren Arterius can defy the best and brightest of quarian civilization at its zenith by _controlling the geth_, but it's just a little too out-there to think that Matriarch Benezia could still command the loyalty of her soldiers? Just crazy talk, right?"

Avala rolled her eyes. "Geth are robots, Yeshi. Asari are_ people_ with individual lives and thoughts. She may have been a matriarch, but she's completely trashed all of her teachings by acting out like this. Everybody knows now. The Council denounced her. She can't just make asari follow her with the snap of her fingers. We're not drones."

"Yes, but you also have the tendency to get sucked into irrational religious cults."

"Are you still whining about the office Christmas party? I thought it was cute.. "

"Not _you_ you." Yeshek waved his hand. "I meant asari in general." That sounded bad. He put a hand to his eye ridge. "Have been known. There have been cases where asari get tangled up in weird cults and won't abandon their leader. I'm saying that Benezia could still command followers who believed she had a higher cause.. whatever it is."

Avala waved the coffee in her right hand. "All right, let's pretend. Benezia has a squad of soldiers who not only are among the most trained and dedicated in Council space.. they also decided to go all evil. For no apparent reason. Or no, for Saren's dumb reason. Hating the humies with their nasty biotic child soldiers and office Christmas parties... "

"Now that's not fair," Yeshek started, but Avala raised her coffee in a gesture that meant she wasn't finished.

"Soo.. the Citadel is crawling with evil asari commandos. Oh no. What to do?" Avala shrugged. "We have at least three Biotic Response Teams on standby, and we can call up more if needed. Asari commandos work best in stealth. The element of surprise. And in case you haven't noticed.. the Citadel isn't exactly the best place to hide. We've got cameras _everywhere_. Even if Benezia snuck a couple of henchmen in here, there'd be a full team of salarians in Comm all zoomed in on an asari commando picking her nose."

"They'll find a way."

"Take it easy." She smiled gently. "You can't let the stress get to you."

Their eyes met and Yeshek saw warmth in them. Old eyes, older than you would think from her quirky, energetic personality. He also noticed something else, and asked, "Did you _draw on eyebrows_?"

She bit her lip. "Do you like them?"

"You look.. surprised."

Avala took it in stride. "I'm still working on getting them right," she said. "I'm going to ask Eddie for help. His always look interesting. They move up and down when he talks."

"What's next? A loincloth? A spear?"

"Why do you have to be so stuck-up, Yeshi," Avala said. "Humans are so sweet, so affectionate. Little love monkeys. They're so fun."

"I didn't say they weren't any fun," Yeshek replied. It probably depended on your definition of _fun_, though he had to admit he enjoyed his and Cunningham's conversations from time to time. It happened that they both had worked in the same field while in military service. "I'm just saying that it seems silly to try and emulate them. You always buy into fads."

"Come now, Yeshi.. one of the best parts of being an asari is buying into the silly fads. I still embarrass my mother with pictures of her from centuries ago, when that dopy quarian robe-and-bangles thing was in style. It was _awful_. Just looking at that stuff makes me kind of understand how the geth worked themselves up into it.. "

At times Yeshek wondered how Avala Tanar earned a degree in forensics. Now was one of those times. He hoped the elevator would open soon and release him from this conversation. "You know, Avala, you're right," he said. "What's the point of worrying your way through life. I think I'll cut loose.. go wild. Paint myself a little pointy mustache. Hells, no-- I'll get some hair and glue it on."

"A perfect disguise!" Avala raised one of her coffee cups in a cheer. "You can bring down Saren's ring from the inside!"

"Oh boy. They'll make a Spectre out of me yet," Yeshek drawled.

The elevator dinged.

"Here's my stop," Avala said. "I'm going to go ply Kap Joru with coffee. He'll tell me everything." She smiled and leaned in to press her head against the turian's shoulder. Despite his low mood, Yeshek found himself laying a hand on her head, touching the ridges.

She said softly, "Hey, I know there's a lot of pressure right now, but times have been worse than these. I remember them. I'm an old lady, Yeshek." She pressed her head back against his hand, winked, and stepped grinning back out of the elevator. "Trust me. Nothing's going to happen to Shepard. We'll protect him."

"Well.. he's got _Garrus_ now, doesn't he?" Yeshek felt vindicated when he saw Avala's oh-dear expression.

"His poor father," she laughed.

*******

C-Sec Officer Misha Cunningham stood for the last hour just within earshot of an Earth reporter. The woman had chosen to position herself in front of a statue on the half-level below, and was rehearsing her spiel, over and over, in between princessy bouts of bitching at her cameraman. She had that fake plastic look of too many cosmetic surgeries, gorgeous, yes, but Misha had seen greater natural beauty in the muddy, sweaty, tired faces of her sisters in arms back when she was in the Navy.

She was growing tired of the reporter's sing-songy voice, as it once again piped up to fray her nerves.

"Mindoir. _Fif_teen years ago. In _one night _the colonial dream shattered. _Fire_ and _smoke_. In _one night_ a _boy_ became a _man_.. "

_Oh, for Christ's sake._

The screen in Misha's tech visor showed, among other things, the current time; she had 45 minutes remaining in her shift. So far, so good, anyway. Better to be bored out here than to have anything happen.

Misha's task was to stand watch and to provide additional security to a checkpoint some distance ahead. She was set on one of the picturesque bridges in the Presidium, where, it was thought, she could control foot traffic. She thought she could also use the bridge railing for cover if it came to that.

The reporter went on again. Live now, maybe. Misha didn't see the point. So many other networks were locked into wall-to-wall coverage of a whole lot of nothing, so how could this one reporter hope to even be heard? She had nothing new to say. None of them did. The selection of the first human Spectre was as sudden as it was secretive. The Alliance Navy put out a brief Public Affairs notice and that was that. The rest was speculation, rumor, and innuendo. Reactions and complaints. The Chora's Den debacle was still fresh in people's minds, especially here on the Citadel, and it made good press.

_Out of all the servicemen, they had to pick that one? _She had long believed that Special Tactics could use a human, but she knew it would have to be someone with tact, respect for alien species, and discipline. An upstanding human C-Sec Officer, for instance. Not someone best known for reckless destruction and ruthless behavior. Not someone who got his guys killed. And _not_ a biotic.

Looking ahead, she saw a problem materializing at the checkpoint. One of the skycars had descended from normal traffic and was attempting to come low through the Presidium. Officer Gorot Januk hailed the vehicle and as it came up to a stop, Misha saw it could be trouble. It was a small freighter-transport truck, small enough to comfortably truck a small Grizzly or a number of crates. It could be holding explosives.

Gorot Januk commed her and she left her post and annoying reporter behind. A turian friend and colleague had always told her that in a stop like this, the first few moments were critical. Be firm but don't be too aggressive. Be vigilant. Don't let them move their hands out of sight. They know their vehicle better than you do, if they've got anything hidden.

The driver was a black man in his forties or fifties, his expression open and friendly, his billowy shirt in bright colors. He came clambering down in easy cooperation, and Misha saw him pressing a hand to the small of his back-- a concealed weapon?-- but then, more reasonably, a bad back, judging now from his walk. Gorot Januk was watching his every move, but a loud thump snapped his attention away.

A passenger was coming down clunkily from the other side, a goofy young man with Mediterranean looks, a little hefty, probably college age and dressed in professional attire. He appeared very nervous and Misha saw his hands wringing and fluttering. Were they hiding something? Or was he just apprehensive about the stop?

The salarian officer began to question them. _What's up? Jan isn't usually this bad.._

Her Lancer swinging on her hip, Misha walked a circle around the vehicle. Misha's hardsuit readout identified the vehicle as belonging to a human transport company, one she saw now and again on the Citadel. They contracted out to human governments when they needed something moved.

"You speak to him," Gorot Januk told her, nodding to the driver. "My translator isn't picking him up very well." With this the salarian sidled away and began to make his own quick inspections of the vehicle.

Under her suspicious glare, the passenger blurted out that he was from AGeS and they were taking a shipment in from the _James Cook_. He had the manifest and everything. Don't shoot him. He was going to move his hands to bring up the omnitool. He had a message direct from the captain--

Here the driver laughed a deep and musical laugh, and the instant he opened his mouth, Misha understood why the salarian's translator was not making sense of his speech. Their identification showed them to be:

David Thailogg, 49, citizen Barbados, employed ALLITRAX Freight Company / Alliance Geological Services, with up-to-date licensing and a prior speeding violation dating back two years (resolved).

Robert Dupree-Uthman, 22, citizen Turkey and Canada, currently on student internship to Alliance Geological Services.

Misha's concerns melted away, though Gorot Januk insisted on inspecting every loose speck of dust in the back of the vehicle. Misha was left talking with the two humans, the uptight geology intern who flinched visibly every time he heard Gorot Januk bang or knock on the crates, and the kindly driver, "everyone calls me Davy," who gently assured her that he appreciated what they were doing, since such bad men were running around, and she must be so brave, "just look at you", a lovely looking woman, how could it possibly be she wasn't married, and somehow Misha was talked into taking off her visor-- just for a second-- so he could see her eyes.

By the time Gorot Januk came grumping back, Misha actually started to feel a little annoyed that the salarian had stopped these two, that kind man and that poor boy, who hadn't even done anything wrong. Gorot Januk was forced to let them go on their way, though it clearly pained him to do so. The young intern heaved a sigh of relief and just about jumped in through the window, but the driver took off his cap, thanked Gorot Januk, and then grabbed Misha's hands in his big paws and wished her well and God bless.

There was something about the twinkling eyes and magical voice that made her smile for a full thirty seconds until the vehicle disappeared.

Gorot Januk said, in his most grouchy tone, "I got a blip. I got a blip when the freighter flew down here."

Misha turned to look at him. Her momentary fit of idiocy was starting to dissolve. She should have been smarter than that, but no harm done. She wasn't convinced of Jan's latest foray into paranoia. Saren would never use humans anyway, and those two didn't look like mercs. "Are you sure it was from that vehicle?"

"Almost. That's why I requested it to stop here. And from the look of it. Could have been full of geth, or krogan. I've been seeing more krogan around here, you know._ Krogan_."

"Or explosives," Misha said. "I didn't get any blips when I went around it. Not one."

"That's because your combat scanner isn't as good as mine." Gorot Januk blinked. "I ordered mine out of pocket. It's custom."

Misha considered. "You didn't find anything when you went in there?"

"No. I opened two of the crates. Just packing material and rocks."

"Well. That boy _was_ from the geological service."

Gorot Januk seemed agitated, disappointed, as though an explosion would have made him feel better about things. "I don't like it."

Misha smirked. "You don't like anything," she said.

*******

"It's not funny," Robert Uthman insisted. "This is important. Important business." He was leaning on the window, looking out of the vehicle, making sure. He had to make sure they weren't followed. Sweat was tickling the back of his neck. His forehead. He brushed the back of his hand over thick brows and frowned at the driver, who was smiling to himself.

Davy shook his head. "I was a young man once myself, believe it or not. You get yourself too excited. You have to be cool, my friend. A calm attitude will take you far in life."

Robert was afraid he might give it all away. Or maybe he had already. Maybe they knew. "I'm just a little stressed, all right?" _Oh, God. That woman officer knew. Was it all right if she did? The salarian. You couldn't trust them.._

Davy leaned back in his seat, piloting their freighter with one hand. You'd think he was on the beach with a cold drink. The man hadn't flinched with an assault rifle pointed his way. Or a jittery alien cop convinced they were up to something. "Look at you," he said. "What were they going to do? Take away your rocks? They're just rocks, nothing more. You've done no wrong, so why sweat like it, friend?"

"They're not_ just_ rocks," Robert blurted, and then he caught himself. "They're important specimens," he said softly, in a more measured tone. "Our probes find them and we study them to learn more about terrestrial worlds. For new colonies, maybe." _So many people out here today. Another krogan. That makes two I've seen.. which looked just like that last one. The same one?_

"Is that what interests you?" Davy asked, then. His deep voice was gentle now, calming, even. "Building the colonies? Or is it exploring?" Robert couldn't help but like the Caribbean accent. He didn't know much about Barbados, only that it had been held by the British, there were lots of coral reefs there, and everybody was crazy about cricket.

"A little of both," Robert answered. His chest felt tight, and he glanced back out the window again. "I, uh, I want to work in the field someday. After I graduate. I'd like to see the colonies, yeah. I mean. The future of the human race. Taking to the stars, all that."

"You must have worked hard to come here," Davy said, "with all the competition. It takes a special person to come all the way out here into space."

Robert shrugged. He thought of his father's disappointment, his mother's objections. "Yeah, well," he said. "No life. You know. Well.. " He began to drum his fingers on the dashboard. "It's what I wanted to do, and.."

Somehow, the young intern found himself roped into a conversation about life, the universe, and everything; twenty minutes went by and he had only thought about the cargo once, but it was soon enough put out of mind when he was asked to explain the commercial uses of the _James Cook_ findings. Though the driver said little of himself, Robert was left with the impression of a kind man with a varied life experience. He was nodding when Robert digressed into remarks on the soil composition at the splinter colony on Yandoa, but the driver had been there once, laughed about the mud that will slurp a pair of boots right off your feet.

The freight truck reached the geological office before Robert knew it, and he realized, with relief, that they were _all home free_. Saren's henchmen hadn't jumped out and shot up the vehicle. C-Sec officers hadn't impounded them. Worse: Saren's C-Sec moles hadn't got ahold of them. Robert Dupree-Uthman was only riding escort with cargo from the James Cook, and that was that. If there were soldiers hanging around the AGeS HQ here on the Citadel, well then, that was because security was jumped up everywhere these days.

It looked like the driver was going to stick around for the fun. _Heh. Was he going to be surprised. _

Two of the soldiers were coming up now, and Davy triggered the hatch release in the back. AGeS personnel were appearing now, and old Dr. Rossi was starting to realize they were going to need more room in the cramped back-office delivery bay. Robert's fellow intern Becky was eating lunch out of a paper tray, some asari bread thing from the vendor down the way. While she chewed she raised her eyebrows up in an excited expression.

The driver had climbed down from the vehicle in the mean time, and when Robert saw him start to move old cargo to make room, the intern figured he had better say something. After some hesitation, he rounded the vehicle, stepped out of a soldier's way, and said, "Dr. Rossi, um, we're not going to open them now, right? They can wait, right?" He glanced at the driver, who was chatting with one of the soldiers. "You know, til we get the truck back out of here?" The driver had seemed so nice, but still. This serious stuff. You had to keep quiet who knew about it. Secret stuff-- _N_-class stuff.

"Hum malady node," Becky said, smugly, her mouth full of pita. Wha?

"He already knows," Dr. Rossi whispered.

Robert absorbed this a minute. "About the.. you know?"

"He knoooows." Dr. Rossi raised up his big black eyebrows. They were the dominant features of his long, thin face.

"Then why are we whispering?"

"I don't know. Because it is_ exciting_." Dr. Rossi flashed a smile, and then he went stern. "Now what, don't you have things to move?"

With the assistance of a power loader, some of the crates were brought down out of the vehicle. Only the crates that were stacked on top of the others, Robert noted. These top crates contained exactly what he told C-Sec they contained. Rock samples and lots of padding. The crates on the bottom were much more interesting.

Robert glanced over to meet the driver's eye. So he knew the whole time. The easy humor had left the man's expression, and his face seemed much more closed. But when he saw Robert, he winked back at him before he punched out a sequence on his omnitool.

The crates responded with movement in the outer locking mechanisms. Popping, twisting sounds. Then the inner plates depressed and one of the soldiers removed the lids. After a moment or two, with everyone looking on in anticipation, the crates hatched out their unusual cargo.

Robert had to give them credit. Even though they had just spent some time cramped up in cargo crates, sucking suit oxygen, the _Normandy_ marines came out of there like they meant business. With the full plates up, Robert couldn't make out any faces. The full-black hardsuits instantly assessed the situation, found their fellow soldiers, and stood ready. One of them stood out in scuffed white armor with pink detail, but somehow even that looked cool and deadly.

Then the last crate hatched out, and for a second, Robert nearly had a heart attack. Not from the sight of the Onyx armor of the First Human Spectre, but of the _geth_ crammed in there with him. Others had the same reaction, weapons coming up, but a deep voice spoke with clear authority and a neutral, North American accdent: "Easy now, she's a quarian." The change in that voice made Robert look away from the marines, and he was shocked to see "Davy" in the process of unbuttoning his baggy, billowy outer shirt, which had hidden the firepower he wore on his body.

"Hey cap'n, what's with that big jolt back there," came the voice of the Spectre through the hissing respirator. "You hit a pedestrian or something? Tali's dad is gonna kill me as it is. My hand on the Bible, I had her in here for the jamming signal.."

The flashlight-headed thing clapped its hands over its flashlight.

With obvious relief, the _Normandy_ squad started to disable their breathers and take off their helmets. The one in white stayed put, breathing steadily, as if half-expecting one of the other soldiers to start shooting. "Good work, everyone," David Anderson said, then. _That_ David Anderson. If you melted down all his medals, you could pour him his own statue.

"Thank you, Robert," Captain Anderson told him kindly and specifically, like he even meant a speck of dust in this whole scheme of things, though the young intern was still too surprised to speak, "and you, Dr. Rossi, for allowing us to use your cargo and facility. I'm afraid our embassy is too obvious for this point in time. Men, the AGeS staff have been very gracious to us. Don't wear on their hospitality and be helpful if they need someone to move something. And Shepard.. " A note of humor crept into his deep firm voice. "Don't _touch_ anything."

"They'll never even know we're here," the Onyx hardsuit said, with a hint of a smug asshole tone through the breather mask. "Cept for all the guns, grenades, and my chicken-leg alien."

*******

With the traditional words the Council adjourned for this cycle. All further arguments, deliberations, flatteries, requests, and sundry other demands would have to wait until the three again convened in the tower.

She was tired, the asari, as was he, the turian, though their amphibian compatriot was prepared to continue for so long as he desired. The salarians did not sleep. She sometimes envied the salarian ability to live in all the hours of the night, but she had seen them come and go across the decades. They lived so short a time. This morning, her mind in a fog, she had mistakenly called the salarian councillor by the name of his predecessor.

The councillor's entourage joined her in the unmarked shuttle that would take her home. They knew her well after all this time, and so, having read her face, they kept their conversation light and allowed her to retreat into her thoughts. Her mood was heavy and gazing out the viewport, she was unmoved by the sparkling beauty and sophistication of the Presidium below.

She was no stranger to the unpleasantry of Citadel business, and certainly no shrinking flower. She had seen the same problems again and again in the long centuries of her life: the same squabbles, the same disputes, only different faces, different races. Sometimes, when Ambassador Udina spoke, the years flew backward and she saw the old batarian ambassador in his stead, whose self-serving ways were nearly identical to his human counterpart.

But these were weird times, different times.

The councillor knew from time to time that a colony would fall, or it would fail, either in a dramatic end by pirates or hostiles or by disease or disinterest infecting its settlers.

She knew as well that Spectres could not live forever. Many died in the line of duty. Sometimes heroic, like the quarian Spectre Tanas'Ta, who made his last stand on the red moon of Khedradan, his great sacrifice now largely forgotten. Sometimes they died mundane, like the salarian Spectre Gol Nush Talla, claimed by an allergic reaction. Sometimes, though, sometimes they lived into retirement, like Ielran Rakeen, the old turian scout.

But to lose a colony to an agent of the Council? To lose a colony to machines?

To lose two Spectres at once, Nihlus and Saren, and at such a time when every one was needed? And even worse-- the potential to lose a third, and so soon after his induction?

And the discovery of a prothean beacon, long dormant, whose true message none of them would ever know. Even if she touched Shepard's mind, would she understand what she saw there? How could he even claim to understand? Even after millennia of day-to-day use of their artifacts, their mass relays, their Citadel, the best and brightest engineers had not progressed much further in understanding than the morning of the first discovery. The protheans were different. They were _alien_.

The councillor was sorry for Shepard, and she was a little afraid. Throughout history only a few could withstand the images from the prothean beacons. Many paid the price for the great asari discoveries. The great explorer Jumatha, about whom so many poems and songs were sung, who found a beacon deep in a cave. In an instant her vibrant personality was snuffed out, and she lived out two centuries wandering arcaded gardens, whimpering, crying, gently cared for by hushed servants, until she flung herself from the cliffs above white beaches. It was as though her spirit remained in that cave, deep in the hollows, forced from her body by whatever horrors she had seen in that beacon.

Privately, the Council had been assured by experts that while madness and derangement were common in those who interfaced with the beacons, the effect was usually instantaneous. Shepard seemed more or less his usual self. He was possessed of unusually strong will, though, was that not why Nihlus recommended him so highly?

Oh.. if only things had gone differently. _Oh, Saren. How could you let your foolish hate consume you?_ Personal failings, vendettas, grudges-- those too were not new to her, in all the centuries of her life. But all of this together, all of these events were converging now in times more dangerous than she could remember. The situation was very delicate. A wrong move now could upset the balance.

Though painful, it was best to wait and see, and go with caution.

_I cannot believe the geth have returned._

"We have arrived, my lady," came the rough voice of her driver. He was a turian, like most of her security detail. She found them exceedingly brave and loyal, though now they had cause to amuse her. As she was led gently down from the craft, one of them noticed that furniture had been moved on the rooftop garden below the landing pad.

"Anarinda's come home to us," the councillor said. "No need to worry. I doubt Saren's agents would find it necessary to sneak in and rearrange my little garden. Though if so-- I like what they've done with it."

Unsatisfied, or perhaps yearning for action, the turian security chief advanced to the doorway, positioned himself and his men, and went in. They returned in the presence of Anarinda, who walked an unhurried walk onto the courtyard with a paper lantern hanging from her hands.

"Mistress," she said softly.

The security chief grunted. "Can never be too sure," he said.

"Thought I smelled varren," one of the younger turians remarked. "That varren smell. Unmistakeable."

"That's just you," one of the others said. "Come on, then."

"Thank you, my friends," she said. They made respectful gestures to the councillor and returned to their duties. Anarinda was in the process of hanging the lantern now from the thin arm of an ornamental tree. She tapped its orb to make it light, and then stood erect, her hands folded just so.

The councillor smiled as she strode forth to meet her young aide. "You've only been back for twelve hours, and look at the little excitement you've caused."

Anarinda bowed her head. She had always been a quiet one, meek and reserved, though very intelligent. Always a good judge of character. She was dressed as usual in very modest clothing, earth-toned, with billowy sleeves down to her wrists and a skirt that rested on lightly slippered feet.

The councillor brushed her fingertips over the exposed cranial ridges. "You know I tease you," she said. "Let's go inside. You must tell me all about your holiday. I don't want to hear a _word_ of politics. I only want to hear the wild tales of your exploits... "

*******

When the long robes of her office came off, the councillor felt an enormous weight lifted from her body. She leaned on the doorway in order to step out of her clothing, helped by her aide, who carefully drew up the robes to hang over her arm.

"I must admit you have surprised me," she said, standing, looking into the adjoining room of her apartments. Sparse and sleek, as how she liked it. A few plants that Anarinda had not yet come around to water. Usually she was good about the plants and little living things. "When we last spoke, you were still trying to decide whether you wanted to visit the Library Dome or the Meditation Gardens. And you went to the beach instead."

"I had not planned on it," Anarinda replied softly. "It just happened." She was stroking the robes with her fingertips, looking down on them. She swished away to hang them for later laundering.

"I hope you didn't wear _that_," the councillor said. "You don't look as though you got any sun at all." She held her bare arm close to Anarinda's when she returned, and playfully went to pull back the sleeve to try and compare skin tones.

Anarinda moved her arm away. Self-conscious as usual. "I don't tan," she said.

"As for me, if I even think about the sun, I turn purple all over," the councillor said. "Please tell me you enjoyed your little vacation?" Impishly, she added, "Did you meet anyone? You do realize that the point of a vacation is to have a little fun? At least one of us has to enjoy herself.. "

"I had time to think about things," Anarinda replied, carefully, as she drew her cool fingertips across the councillor's cheek. She moved away, though her hand slid down the councillor's arm to take her hand. "I think sometimes we all need to think about things. Life. To realize what is really important."

The councillor followed her barefoot into the room that held the sink and the tub, which she saw now that Anarinda had filled near to the brim. The councillor had not yet even touched the steaming water and a sigh escaped her lips. Then, she turned slowly to face that dear young one, and to lay her hands on Anarinda's head.

"I don't mean to mock you," she said, softly, then. A slight smile. "Only a little, but in good fun." She tapped her fingers. "What you do on your time is your business. But you know I want you to enjoy yourself."

She was rewarded with a small, faint smile from Anarinda. Sad, almost. "I understand now," Anarinda said. "I feel better."

The councillor lingered a moment, looking into her young aide's face. "Is there something you want to talk about?" she asked, and brushed her thumbs over the other asari's crest.

"No, mistress," Anarinda replied. "Unless you want to hear about pod crabs.. "

"Always!" The councillor held Anarinda's hand as she took a tentative step into the hot bath. "What was it like, then? Golden sands, or pink? Seashells everywhere?"

"Pod crabs, and white sands. Cliffs. And storms gathering far off out to sea.. " Anarinda's eyes were somewhere else, still back there, wherever it was.

The councillor sank dreamily into the water, and stretched her arms along the tub alcove's rim. "And what, anyway, is a pod crab?"

"An inconsequential creature. Doesn't matter." Anarinda stroked her hand across the councillor's forehead, and then all the way back to the end of the ridge.

The councillor captured her hand and held it gently. "You sound so tired, Anarinda," she said. "And so quiet, even for you."

"Everything is fine, mistress."

"I think you should go lie down a little. Your body is still adjusting. The Citadel schedule and these Presidium lights are enough to wear out anyone."

Anarinda persisted. As usual. "Everything's fine," she said.

"No it isn't," the councillor replied, gently. "I am perfectly capable of washing my own back." She smiled. "I am councillor and everything now, after all. After you've had a good long sleep, there will be plenty to talk about." And plenty for the poor girl to go research for her.

Anarinda bowed her head, and then she rose, and the councillor watched her retreating form. _Poor thing_, the councillor thought. _She is such a sensitive soul. She feels too deeply. I am almost afraid to tell her what has been happening here in this last month. Saren. Nihlus. The matriarch! Doubtless she has heard on the news, but she wouldn't know the extent of it, how truly terrible a place we're in. The geth.. the Terminus Systems.. _

The councillor felt her heavy mood return, almost all at once. What was she to do with Shepard? She shut her eyes and let herself sink deeper into the tub, breathing in the smell of bath oils and clean, hot water.

Some time later, when her worries and the hot water had both dulled into something comfortable, she felt a change in the bath. The gentle waters rose up over her collarbone in a delicate swell. Anticipating something else entirely, the councillor and opened her eyes and started to smile.

Then she saw it.

The varren stood with its front paws in the tub, its ridged back hunched over, its body sleek, green-gray, and powerfuly muscled. Its long tongue curled over the edge of its snout, and then it licked its razor sharp teeth.

*******


	11. Chapter 11

For a moment, they only stared at each other: the asari councillor, and the Tuchanka fishdog.

"He's gotten so big," the councillor remarked. The sight of the beast made her heart thump with momentary fear, but she knew this animal and its master.

"They grow so fast," came the low contralto of the answering voice. "Eat everything, you know?"

The councillor waited. The varren's master would explain her presence when she was ready.

The other asari held out the doorway curtain and thudded into the room on dusty boots. She pinched the fingertips of her left hand and pulled the long black arm-glove off. "I heard you were mind-melding with the Spectres now," she said, making a sly face. "I came as quick as I could."

She went by the name of Gwekga. Not the name of her birth, not an asari name, but an archaic batarian term for a serpentine creature now hunted to extinction: the-thing-that-watches.

Gwekga's mother had been a commando with the storied White Shield of Yllonika. She had been the very one to kill the notorious warlord Yegga Lakgur, in single combat, on the wreckage-strewn sands of his pleasure retreat. The batarian Lakgur was known for his appalling cruelty and his heartless cunning, but before she killed him, Gwekga's mother must have seen something in his black soul. As he lay dying on the sand-- the story went-- the asari commando reached out and slowly closed his failing eyes, and in that touch she reached a decision whose result had started such controversy. And never stopped.

Now she had come up to the tub alcove and sat playfully on the ledge, petting the varren in long silky strokes. Its name was Gvurgat, named after Gva Gvurga, who in ancient batarian mythology was the creature who devoured the souls of the unworthy at their time of judgment.

Gwekga always had a flair for the dramatic.

"Jealousy is never attractive, my dear," the councillor said gently. She leaned back in the tub and maintained a resolute gaze with the asari spectre. "I hope you didn't come here to cause trouble with the human. There's enough of that going around, and more."

Gwekga put a hand to her chest, as though to say, What, me? and even seemed to exchange a glance with the varren. The beast was lolling its tongue, its slick lips peeled back. It always looked so cheery. "If I was going to do something, I already would have," she replied. "And I wouldn't tell all about it anyway."

The councillor smirked. "Or would you? I seem to recall that you enjoy a little villain speech now and again."

"But I work so hard for the Council. I work these fingers to the bone. I think I can indulge in a little gloating now and again.. " Gwekga pouted. "In any case, I didn't hear about your latest mindy-meldy delusion til I arrived here."

"To say nothing of Saren? Of Nihlus?"

Gwekga rolled her shoulders. "Well, I can't say I'm sorry about Nihlus. He didn't tell you about his little plan, did he. " She widened her eyes. "He didn't. But I have to say I'm surprised and disappointed by Saren. And by you. What were you thinking, letting a smelly little quarian ruin it all? We could have salvaged the situation. No one had to know."

The councillor took in a breath. Best not to show that the comment had riled her; Gwekga's style, always. "An unworthy remark, even for you. The quarian proved Saren's involvement with the destruction of a human colony."

"Quarians are all liars. Thieves. At the very least you could have strung it out a little. Give yourself time to capture Saren." Gwekga let her hand play across the varren's head now, staring off into the adjoining chambers. "He has made the single greatest discovery of his generation and look how he wastes it. The fool."

The prothean beacon? How did she know? Who has told her, or does she have a contact of her own embedded in the Presidium? Carefully, the councillor countered, "And what would you have done?"

Gwekga smiled a small little smile. "Certainly something better than that. Saren has found a way at last to control the geth. And he blows it all with a petty strike on the humans. He didn't need the geth to destroy a human colony."

"No, apparently not," the councillor replied, "as the batarians have demonstrated." She rose elegant and dripping from her bath, ignoring the look that the Spectre now gave her. "I don't know the geth can be controlled. My turian compatriot believes that Saren's control is tenuous at best, if he and Benezia are lying to them somehow, misleading them with stories."

"What do you believe?"

"I don't know just yet," replied the councillor, as she reached for a towel. "I need more time to think."

"You always do." Gwekga smiled. "It will be too late."

"Too late for what?"

Gwekga petted the varren in long and silky strokes, her touch as slow as her voice. "Tell me, why is it that the human wants to meld with you?"

"Reasons that are strictly professional," said the councillor. "I heard he liked the turian ladies."

"He wants you to believe in his delusional fantasies."

"But I already like turian ladies." The councillor slid on her bathrobe, and angled a look over her shoulder. "Do you believe they are delusions?" she asked, then, carefully; she did not know how much Gwekga knew.

"Yes. I believe there's truth in there, somewhere. I believe that the prothean empire eventually collapsed after some synthetic rebellion. The Machine Devils were like the geth to the quarians. I don't trust machines. However.. you have to remember that humans are still very primitive and superstitious. They're obsessed with death and destruction. I think the prothean transmission just tapped into some apocalyptic fantasy of his. But that's beside my point."

The councillor tied her robe. "Which is what?"

"He wants ships to go after Saren and his geth."

"Ships we can't just pull from thin air."

"Yes you can, and you should." Gwekga smiled. "The Still Waters, the Unfinished Poem, the Hand of the Goddess, and the Cliffs of Blue Shadow. I think Captain Huomi Plet-Ketta from the salarians, and Lieutenant Commander Talongan from the turians. I think that was the name. Talongan."

"I don't follow. And the Unfinished Poem is otherwise engaged."

"The best course of action is to mourn Shepard's heroic death in a magnificent joint effort to bring Saren to justice. The turians restore their honor. The asari are once again the wise peacekeepers of the galaxy. The salarian STG teams do whatever it is that they do. And the humans are saved from themselves. And we are saved from them." Gwekga grinned. "Of course we could do it your way.. spurn and anger the humans, leave them humiliated and self-righteous, and just let them do what they want with the geth. Finder's keepers."

The councillor blinked. "You're telling me you think the humans will take control of the geth?"

"Oh, I know they will."

"What makes you think the humans will succeed where the quarians, at the height of their power, had failed?"

"The quarians are a lazy and indolent people. They always were, with their machine slaves to do their work for them." Gwekga scratched beneath the varren's chin. "The humans are new, they're young, busy, impatient, always reaching and grasping. More than half their military is machine already. They love their robots."

"Impossible."

"They'll find a way. I was there on Qutaaru. I have seen what they can do. What they're capable of."

"Always so paranoid."

"You've lived long enough to know the way it works. You've seen some strange things in your time. I warned you. There's still time to cover your mistake."

"Little love for the Butcher of Torfan, I see."

"He will undo all of my work. I've had this tedious conversation many times with Nihlus. All the batarians need is a new government."

"Amply staffed by friends of yours, of course."

"Don't be silly. I don't have friends." Gwekga leaned down to place a kiss on the varren's head. "Just my baby here." She smiled up at the councillor, and then it evaporated. "So what's your contingency plan? With Shepard."

"You will not interfere with him."

"I'm only saying that it would be best to.. preserve decency.. if your crazy little Spectre doesn't turn out. You don't want the Council to look foolish in front of the entire Milky Way."

"You will not interfere."

"The salarians probably have it all figured out already anyway." Her fingers traced lazy circles on the fishdog's head. "I love my Gvurgat, my baby, my beast. But if he ever got too excited.. there's a little button I press to give him his nap." The batarians lodged chips and controlling devices in the brain stems of the beasts or the beings that they enslaved.

The asari councillor frowned. "You will not touch Shepard. You will not speak to him. It's not for you to decide how to deal with him if he goes out of hand." Gwekga had best remember who was in power here. "To speak of rogue Spectres.. I remind you that your decision on Orjantha was very unpopular and there are others in Special Tactics who hold strong opinions on the matter. I won't name names."

"It's Yaera isn't it. She blames me for killing that stupid follower of hers that she was trying to romance. Like she can't just get another one."

The councillor narrowed her eyes.

"Anyway, before you get your towel in a twist.. I didn't come here for Shepard. I'm going to let him live just to show you what a terrible mistake you have made. So that when the time comes, you will know my way is best-- and that I was right."

"Which is truly what's important here," the councillor said acidly.

"Always. As I was saying, I didn't even know Shepard was coming here until I saw the media circus." She studied her nails. "I was here for Mikhailovich. I wanted to meet the man behind Qutaaru III. I wanted to know if the story with the woman is true."

"You know the way out."

Gwekga smiled over her shoulder. "By the way.. about your little servant. I hardly had to sneak in at all, it wasn't much fun. I don't think she would have noticed if I marched the entire White Shield through here. Naked." A pause. "If this were Terminus, she would have been whipped."

*******

The AGeS back-office was dark, crowded with crates, and now smelled strongly of curry powder and garlic paste.

"Tali says this used to be part of the quarian embassy," Shepard was saying, speaking in a lower voice than he had to. "When their homeworld fell, the last ambassador killed himself here."

"The batarians had it after that," Anderson said. "This was their embassy before they pulled out in a huff."

"And after the machines kill us all," Shepard went on, "the giant space hamsters can have their turn."

"The squeak shall inherit the earth," Anderson intoned.

They were eating murgh makhani out of flimsy takeaway containers, Anderson lounging in a leather chair pulled from Dr. Rossi's desk, and Shepard up on a crate full of Cuervo banded agate. Despite the excitement and unease of the last week, Anderson was pleased to see Shepard, and to see that he mostly appeared his old self.

"I've been talking to Tali, about the geth," Shepard was saying now. "Do you think the quarians were wrong?"

"I don't know the whole story."

"The quarians created the geth as a workforce. The geth became self-aware. The geth tried to pull the plug on all of them. They went Skynet."

"Hard to say, Shepard. Why do you think the quarians pulled the plug?"

"I don't know. Afraid of a machine uprising."

"And then what happened?"

"But then the geth destroyed their homeworld, their culture, their entire civilization. Their religion."

"Well, then. What do you think, to ask you your own question. Do you think the quarians were wrong?"

"Yeah."

"What would you have done?"

"I don't know. Probably the same thing." Shepard looked almost finished with his chicken.

Anderson handed some flatbread across to him, tossing it into the open container. Biotics were always hungry.

"I just keep thinking about how Saren controls the geth. I don't think he really controls them."

Anderson considered. How to support Shepard and that harrowing contact with the beacon, and how to offer an alternate explanation at the same time? "The Council seems to think that Saren is lying to them, leading them on with stories about the Reapers. And that sooner or later, the game will be over, and they'll dispose of him."

"I'm sure they'd like to think that all their problems will go away on their own." Shepard began to tear into the bread. "I just keep thinking about it. They're looking for meaning. They're looking for God."

"What did you see in the beacon?"

"Pain. Doom. Everything that ever was, is, will be. Gone. I can't make it clearer." He licked his lips. "Liara wants to have a look. I don't know if that's her ploy, or what. I don't think she could take it."

"The Council may decide against your request."

"I've got to try. I can't track them down with just one ship. I'm not a fucking detective. I'm a marine."

"John."

"Yeah, cap'n."

"Some of us are worried about you. When the first explorers found the beacon on Mars, one of them interfaced with it and saw-- most likely-- what you did on Eden Prime. It shattered his mind. He committed suicide. They kept it under wraps."

"So you think I've finally jumped off the deep end, huh. I'm gonna start running around ass naked through the Citadel, screaming and blowing shit up with my mind."

"Not in front of the reporters, John." Anderson sighed a deep theatric sigh; he smiled when Shepard smiled. "Not me. I don't think so. I believe you're strong enough to take it. All your years of training, your mental conditioning, all the discipline required to tap into your talents. Your personal history.. "

"I'm not crazy."

"I know."

Anderson thought briefly, grimly, of the poor young woman who now carried the name and burden of the Survivor of Akuze. A burden that turned out too much to bear.

"They have you talking to me to find out if I'm nuts." Shepard smiled at him, almost sad, Anderson thought. He felt a deep twinge of sympathy for this obnoxious but talented young man he had come to love like a son.

"I won't deny it," he said. "But I know you aren't."

"Gonna take me out back, cap'n?" John said softly then. "Get all Mice and Men on me. Gonna tell me about the rabbits?"

Old memories of Torfan had been stirred recently. Anderson had heard how Shepard requested the official report, to circulate it among his crew. The Alliance had been ready to put him down like a dog. Thank God for Major Kyle's outburst on the stand. The testimony got a whole lot weirder after that, and the verdict clearer. Perhaps one of the stranger outcomes of the trial was that it seemed to gain some ground with some of the batarians, who identified Shepard with one of their underworld gods.

Anderson met his eye. "No. I've always stood by you. You know that."

The hard lines eased in Shepard's face. "Thanks for everything, cap'n," he said. Then his look grew playful again. David knew that Shepard had missed him. "You know there's a shitload of biotic response teams out there. They're out there for me, you know. To make the populace feel at ease. It's that Commander Vyrnnus instinct. The turian fear jedi."

"How did you see them, you were sealed up in a crate the whole time."

"Yeah, snug with my space chicken." Johnny smirked. Anderson too. Shepard had the clever idea of bringing her in with him, so that she could work her magic and jam any scanners, so that no one would could detect the hardsuit signatures of the marines inside the crates. Tali'Zorah was a truly an asset, a skilled machinist and technical expert. She was also young and female, and apparently had giggled helplessly the entire time in there. "I got a man on the inside. A big frog man."

"I was wondering what you did with the krogan."

"I sent him out for a look-see. We didn't have a crate big enough. Anyway, he says there's some BRTs out there, amped up patrols. More krogan than usual."

"I did see that. The brown ones."

"Yeah, that's what he said. He said it's kind of unusual to see so many of the same clan. C-Sec already brought one in for disturbing the peace, I guess he couldn't help himself. Shit's gonna go down." He leaned back. "Think I should just stand out there on the bridge and let them bring it to me. See what they got. Just put it all out there and get it over with."

"Well, it's now or never. As we speak, his networks here are being dismantled. One of his followers defected. Turned himself in at C-Sec. A turian tech expert."

Shepard raised his eyebrows. "A tech expert. He might know more about Saren's geth."

"So far as I've heard.. he's not in the condition to do much talking. He's drugged, or shell-shocked. But he's here, C-Sec has him."

"I'll get Garrus on it." Shepard was fishing out his omnitool. "He's down there watching the salarians do their thing."

"How's your amp working out?"

"I'm used to it now," Shepard said, his chin tucked as he typed out a message on the omnitool. "It's just been awhile since I had one in." He looked up, with the orange glow of the holo gleaming in his eyes. "Since I'm all important and shit now, I want a better one."

"They want to see how you do with this one for now. But they're working on it."

"You know what.. " Johnny suddenly grinned. "This looks like a job for.. Kahlee Sanders."

Anderson sighed. He felt the vanguard's eyes on him, watching him closely for his reaction. Once he set his mind to something, he could be so persistent and meddling.

"I'm serious. You couldn't have a more perfect excuse. Invite her on up to the Citadel, cap'n. Show off that bachelor pad."

"Shepard. A man and a woman can be friends and nothing more. You know this by now, don't you?"

"A man and a woman, sure. But a red hot milf like her and a carved pillar of ebony like you? C'mon. I'll ring her up. Oh, doc, oh.. oooh, my amp, it huuuurts. Help meee."

"You think that would really work?"

Shepard cackled and chewed up more bread. "No. She'd be like, 'stop bein' a pussy John, and stop calling me' probably all in her bathrobe with a drink or something in her hand."

"Enough. We're already seeing about a new amp." Anderson waved his hand. "So how are you getting along with Alenko? He's very nice, isn't he?"

The Spectre's playful grin soured up almost immediately. He had the look of a petulant child. "He's boring. He doesn't do anything."

Anderson said, "Well, what do you want him to do?" Run around like a hyperactive four year old? Punch people's wives in the face? Come to think of it, he never did get an answer on why Shepard decided to deck Fitzgerald Danvers' wife in front of everyone.

"I don't know. But I thought those old-school brain campers were supposed to be hardcore. The Spartan way. Alenko's like.. I signed your paperwork, sir, now if you'll excuse me, I need to go brief the crew on sexual harassment and Alliance dental coverage."

Anderson shook his head.

"I just don't like other biotics," he snapped.

"You didn't like Lieutenant Long?"

"She was different. And a cheating bitch."

Anderson leaned back in his chair. "She sent you a present, by the way. To Arcturus."

"Really?"

"Yes. It triggered the biohazard alarm. Everyone who contacted the package had to be stripped and blasted with decontaminant right on the spot. I'd say if Captain Ewan wasn't angry at you enough already.. "

"What did she send?"

"Some kind of vacuum-sealed dead animal, so far as anyone can tell."

A beatific smile spread across Shepard's face. "She still loves me, cap'n."

"Whatever happened to her, by the way?"

"Married some asshole, had a kid."

"Forget I asked."

Shepard just grinned. "Over it, cap'n. You kidding. Actually she mails me now and again. Movie reviews mostly, just like old times. And she still hasn't found the capslock button, after all these years."

"Ah, yes. I remember her reports." Anderson chuckled. He had quite liked Margaret, to tell the truth. A strong woman with a forceful personality, a bit eccentric, but genuinely kind in her own way and dedicated to the mission out on the Verge. "I've got something for you, by the way. Back at my office."

"Tell me what it is."

"It's a surprise."

"Don't tell me, you got me some roadkill too?"

"No. You'll have to find out."

Of course Johnny would want to know immediately. "What if Saren kills me."

"Saren won't kill you."

"What if C-Sec kills me."

"They won't."

"What if I'm out in the Presidium, slip on a space banana, and break my neck." Shepard put on his most accusing look.

"Then you're just a goddam idiot John, and I can't help you."

"What if I die from beef jerky poisoning."

"I almost forgot about that. How much do you have left out of the 500?"

"Too much. I'm sick of that shit, I really am. I don't think I can make myself eat one more piece of fucking beef jerky. Ever."

"That should never have to happen to any man."

"No. It's a crime. So what's my present?"

" Fine. It's a book I found when I was back in London."

"A book, thank God. I'm trying to get through Dune right now and it's killin' me, cap'n. I'm just going to stick with David Lynch and call it a day. What kind of book."

"Philosophy."

"What kind of philosophy."

Anderson sighed. He shouldn't have said anything. "It has to do with that stupid tattoo I advised you not to get," he said.

"No regrets, cap'n. I want it now."

"It's back at the embassy."

"So I'll go get it. I'm bored of hiding, anyway."

"It's only been a couple hours."

"I don't like hiding."

"There's krogan. And reporters."

"I want to shoot a krogan right in front of some broad's camera. I'll be like, 'hey, one sec' and blam, five gallons of frog brain everywhere, then I'll be like, 'reading is cool, kids!'"

"I think you're going to have to work on the public relations angle."

"Fuck that. My job is now is to kill Saren before he can unleash the machine apocalypse. Anyway.. " Shepard rolled his eyes. "I give it a week before it goes from 'Johnny Shepard and his dark past' to... 'John Shepard: he fucks aliens!'"

Anderson put on his most exasperated face and said, "Well, if you'd just stop fucking them, John."

"Look, I try to just be friends, but I d'know, one thing leads to another." Shepard made his eyes all huge. Then he snorted. "Speaking of. You will never believe what happened to me."

"I'm afraid to ask."

"No no, not like that. It was on the switchoff between Normandy and the Vladivostok, so we could come in disguise. Guess who was there in the airlock to meet us."

Anderson frowned. "Ah. Admiral Mikhailovich, I take it."

"Yeah. My hero, right. I wanted to be just like him when I grew up. That attitude. That shit on Qutaaru. I'm thinking he showed up just for me, he's going to give me an inspirational speech, preferably drunk."

"Let me guess: he wasn't happy."

"He chewed me out in front of my own damn party, bitched about everything, and even made some snide insinuation that the only reason I've got aliens on my ship," Shepard huffed, "is to fuck them."

"Surely that's not the only reason," Anderson tried for levity.

Shepard couldn't resist, just as David thought; immediately he went into deadpan. "I like to have a lot of options," he said. "Anyway, fuck Mikhailovich. I can bring whoever or whatever I want on my ship. It goes back to the age of sail."

"Mikhailovich is a good man, just set in his ways. He's done a lot of good out in the Verge. He's rescued a lot of people out there, brought them home to their families."

"I know. It just surprised me. So cap'n. When the dust settles.. I need to use the computer in your office. I need to beam some forms back to HQ."

"Is there a problem?"

"Just trying to get Williams' transfer finalized. They keep giving me trouble over it. Now the excuse is a payroll issue. They say they can't pay her, so she can't stay, some rule or something."

"Why can't they pay her?"

"Because it's all tied up in Eden Prime's network. Which is down. So to cut through all this crap I'm just going to issue equipment to her and make that her payment for now. I just have to get it right to the exact amount."

"Sounds like a plan."

"You know who she is?"

"Yes."

"You didn't tell me."

"Too much was happening, and what difference does it make?"

"General Williams shouldn't have surrendered. We never surrender."

"The turians would have killed every last soul on that world. You know this, John." Anderson watched his face, saw the hard memory of Mindoir in his eye. He saw it pass.

Shepard nodded. "I know. An impossible situation. But-- but I want her to come with us. I believe in redemption."

"Williams seems like a good marine."

"She is. I like what I see so far."

"So did I."

"Back on Therum, she killed a krogan battlemaster."

"That's impressive."

"Well.. her and Garrus killed him the first time. I got him the second. They get up, you know?"

"Glad it's working out, then. She shouldn't have to suffer because of her name."

"Agreed, sir." A slow smile showed on Shepard's face. "And anyway, I think it's a great name. Ash Williams. That's one of my favorite movies."

"I don't get it."

"C'mon. Chainsaw hand? Zombies? First use of the shaky cam?" Shepard leaned back. "Tell you what. You give me this book, I'll give you this movie. Broaden your horizons. You'll thank me. It's inspirational. It's about leadership."

*******

The Citadel had not changed since her last visit, a symposium on Late Dynasty Prothean Architecture. Liara remembered it with vivid clarity, the way her computer had frozen up mid-way through her presentation, the nagging suspicion that one of the other archaeologists had plagiarized from the works of Tirn Ka Puen, and of course, the unexpected and unwanted hand on her thigh in what had been up til then a fascinating private dinner. How silly and naive she was, thinking someone like Dr. Yorthus would actually be interested in the esoterica of her work. How angry he had been when she rebuffed him! The whole episode hurt just to remember it, all these years later, even after Yorthus went to his grave. I should really try to not be so stupid with people..

Liara sighed. It was difficult not to dwell on matters when she was left sitting in a frigid interrogation room somewhere in the C-Sec Academy. She didn't even know where. It had all been very secret, coming off the human survey vessel and into an enclosed prisoner transport. Of course the very sight of it had shocked her; she had honestly believed that Shepard was having her carted away, but Lieutenant Alenko seemed to understand right away what she was thinking and reassured her otherwise. The secrecy and tricks were all part of protecting her, he insisted.

She had been questioned by the salarians for what seemed like hours. They were methodical and redundant with their questions. No doubt they were trying to see if she changed her answers. She probably had, by accident, misremembering something or placing it out of sequence. They were even asking her things as far back as thirty or forty years, which was longer than many salarians could hope to live. Tilana Kol? Danata T'Veen from the Chosen of Sallas? When they started asking her about the names of some of her mother's companions and followers, she started to mix up who was who, names, dates, and so on, and the huge salarian eyes had narrowed. Their heads had dropped slightly as they typed something; one of them spoke softly into a comm unit. Liara's heart had stopped.

Lieutenant Alenko spoke up from his post, saying, "Gentlemen, you're asking about something that happened decades ago. She's bound to make some mistakes. She's tired, she's been through a lot. I'm sure she's doing the best she can right now."

She'd been grateful for that. She was not certain what to make of Alenko. He was by far the most patient human she had ever encountered. Usually they talked all the time, loud, all hands, always doing something or needing to be entertained. His eyes moved and she knew he saw her looking at him. She felt awkward, not knowing what to say. She made an uneasy little smile and he nodded his head once.

The salarians had left to discuss things amongst themselves, to make calls, to do goddess knows what. Salarians were always busy. Now the three of them were all in this small room sitting there, looking at one another. Garrus Vakarian was leaned against the wall. Lieutenant Alenko was standing by the door. He could sit down if he wanted to.

Liara was starting to feel like she ought to say something. "You.. you know, Garrus," she said, then, and her voice cracked from dryness. The turian cocked his head. She needed to wet her lips from the little glass of water provided for her. "I've been thinking that you looked familiar to me, and now I remember."

"Is that so," Garrus replied. "My first post was in the Presidium. Perhaps you saw me standing watch. The positions there are always very visible. Mostly for show. And for tourists to take pictures with you, really."

Liara shook her head. "No," she said, "I think it was on the news. You jumped off a car and landed in the back of a criminal's vehicle. Something heroic like that. It's mostly your face I remember from the interview, and the name."

Garrus cocked his head in an avian fashion. Then his mandibles flexed in an expression of humor. "Ohhh," he said.

"Yes, I thought it rather heroic," she said.

"That wasn't me," he replied. "You're thinking of the older Vakarian, my father. That must have been decades ago!"

Liara felt that her face must be turning a dark purple. "I'm, oh, right." She gave a pleading smile. "I'm not very good at this."

*******

Ashley stood watch-- such as it was. She was seated on a crate in one of the AGeS back-office rooms, where the marines of the Normandy lay sleeping, crowded in among crates and slabs of alien rock. There just wasn't room for them anywhere else, and the geological headquarters were the safest place now.

She liked the atmosphere. Reminded her of home, of mom, and Amaterasu. Mom would have loved to be here, at the hub, to see all the weird things brought from all over the Milky Way. Ashley's favorite so far was a huge piece of polished jade or its equivalent, a beautiful orb the size of a soccer ball, its color a rich layering of milky greens.

The AGeS staff kept peeking in, now and again, to see if the marines needed anything. Or just to see the marines. They were nice. Kind of dorky.

Fredericks was awake. He had a grim look on his face, clutching his rifle, determined to protect his crew. Ashley smiled at him and he just gave an incline of his head. It took arching her eyebrow to make him smile back.

Almost everyone else was asleep. She wasn't sure about the quarian. Tali hadn't moved for a long time, sitting up, her back against a crate. She seemed to be watching over Shepard, or had been. The first human Spectre was stretched out in between Elysium marble and fossilized shell from Yandoa. There was a ridiculous Hawaiian shirt wadded up under his head, the one that Anderson wore earlier as part of his civilian disguise.

Ashley was glad to see him asleep; he needed it. She tried not to give in to girly sympathy-- after all, he was tough as nails, commanded frightening magical powers-- but she couldn't help having a little soft spot. He had such a handsome face, with such a beautiful mouth-- now slightly open, and drooling a little-- and fine features. Long eyelashes. Yup. The media was going to go nuts once they saw the first human Spectre looked like an underwear model.

"Ma'am?" one of the AGeS personnel peeked in again.

Fredericks looked at her, expectant. She was the ranking one awake.

"We-- we've got a message. For Shepard."

The quarian turned her head and her mouth-light flickered. So she was awake after all.

"So they know we're here," Shepard said, after they'd gotten him up. He stood with Ashley, Alvarez, Tali, and Dr. Rossi, crowded in around the terminal in the small side-office.

"I want to help you," a woman's voice said in English, translated, the real voice speaking beneath it in the liquid tones of the asari tongue. "The Council will never agree to let you share your vision with my councillor."

"Who are you?" Shepard said.

"I am Anarinda T'Pela. I serve my lady the councillor."

As she spoke, Shepard leaned back and touched Tali's arm. "Set it up so Garrus can hear this too."

"Saren's got a lot of people gunning for me right now, Anarinda. You understand if I'm not doing cartwheels over here."

"I want to help you. I believe you."

Tali was whirring through glowing options on her omni-tool, and then her masked head came up. She made a silent 'got it' gesture. Williams had had her reservations over letting some space gypsy aboard, but Tali always seemed so eager to help out and make herself useful.

Ashley met Shepard's eye, raised her eyebrow. "Yeah, it's a trap," she said, satisfied to see him share her sarcastic frown. "She's gonna try and pop ya, skipper."

He turned to Alvarez, then. "I need you to rally the guys. It's not safe here anymore, and I don't want to bring down fire on the AGeS office. Not when they've been so good to us. Just wake everyone up, make them ready, just in case."

Over the connection, he said, "So what are you proposing?"

"If you agree, I will meet with you and share your vision. I can come to you."

Immediately, Shepard said, "No. You're not coming here."

"As you like. I know a suitable location."

"Let me guess-- a secluded place, alone, where you and fifty commandos jump out and blast my ass?"

The voice of the asari was sorrowful but patient, which, to Williams' annoyance, was starting to make Shepard seem all the more crass. "I would meet you in broad daylight, such as we have here, before the eyes of all the cameras, and with as many friends as you choose to bring. And whatever weapons. You are right to fear that some have come to hurt you. But I will not harm you at all."

"You said you believed me."

"The protheans commanded a great empire, stretching through all of known space. And yet they vanished. How could they have died so quickly, so suddenly, if not by some terrible force? I know in my soul that the Reapers are real.. I know the same fate awaits us."

There was a note of despair in her true voice, beneath the soft and monotone translation. Ashley felt her skin prickle beneath her armor.

"After we do this.. you'll tell the councillor," Shepard said.

"Yes. I will bring the vision to her. She will trust me. I have shared many visions with her. She will know that you speak the truth. You will have the ships you want, but not as much as you will need."

"Where."

"The statue gardens, within the hour. The Council convenes in the next cycle. You must hurry once you leave, but you will be safe with me. Citadel Security has put out its finest."

Shepard drummed his fingers on the console, and then hung his head. "I'll be there," he said.

"Thank you. Go with the goddess."

Shepard turned his eyes to Tali, who nodded slightly. "Garrus," he said, "did you get all that?"

"It's a trap," Garrus said. Ashley thought he sounded almost prissy.

"Ya think?"

"Just a hunch, commander. But. I think she's right, about the Council at least. They'll waste our time and never really come to a decision. If they do, it'll be No."

Shepard growled.

"But I don't know. I can't imagine why the councillor's own aide would suddenly throw in with Saren and Benezia. Too much to lose, and it just doesn't seem like something an asari would do."

"I'm going to ask, God help me, Udina. Maybe he knows more about the asari councillor and her hangers-on."

"I'll see what I can dig up for you too, commander."

Ashley made a face. "I don't know what other options you have," she said. "I'll go with you, sir. You said there were some krogan milling around. After that one on Therum, I 've got it down. I've got your back."

"Me too," a young voice chimed in.

"Fredericks, no," Shepard said. "And not you either, Tali. I'll comm Wrex. I'll have him check out the statue gardens before we get there."

Ashley nodded. "He's probably getting bored out there, anyway," she said. "Not a good idea."

*******


	12. Chapter 12

*******

They didn't put new paint on her after Shanxi.

Blast marks, scorches, scuffs, she collected damage the way old ships took on barnacles. On more than one occasion, enemy forces had spied her out the viewport, thought her a cripple. Theirs for the taking. They had been wrong. Battered, but never beaten, she still fought as hard as she did the day she came through the relay with the fleet of Kastanie Drescher.

She was _SSV Stalingrad_, loitering now in Citadel space. The soft misty purples of the nebula did nothing for the pockmarked frigate. A small shuttle was manuevering toward her.

It contained officers from the _Crecy_, the _Sekigahara_, and _Qadesh_, among others. A last-minute meeting of minds had been called while the ships were in-system.

The _Crecy_'s XO was in a foul mood already. The science officer from the _Sekigahara_ had insisted on eating his lunch on the way over, and now the whole shuttle smelled. It smelled like.. he didn't know what, but he didn't like it. The young lieutenant off the _Qadesh_ was polite enough, but he kept tapping his foot. And he was starting to suspect that the marine lieutenant from the _Gallipoli_ had just secretly passed gas. The self-satisfied smirk on her face said it all. Commander Danvers hated marines.

"I don't know why we're all crammed on this frigate," Danvers said, as they came off the shuttle into the aft airlock of the Stalingrad. "We've got the Lord Lao in-system, and an embassy on the Citadel. No need to pack us in here like sardines."

"The old girl's a good ship, sir, you just got to get used to her," said the marine from the _Gallipoli_. His omnitool interface showed her name to be MacMillan.

Lieutenant Daweed was speaking now, as they moved into the vehicle bay. The voice of his translator unit went over the murmury sound of his natural Arabic. "Look," he said, "the scars from the Grizzly cannon, back at Qutaaru. I thought that was just a story."

The science officer from the _Sekigahara_ looked at the huge scorch marks, the deep scars on the walls of the crowded garage. "How did that happen?"

"We picked up some people on the forbidden world," MacMillan said. "But not everybody wanted to be saved.. "

"The batarians put chips in their captives," Danvers said. "They cause pain at the press of a button. It makes you mad after awhile. That's why there's so few escapes. That's why it's so hard to rescue them. They're too afraid to escape.. or have no desire to."

"One of the batarian slaves went on a rampage," Daweed said. "She stabbed the captain, got free, and jumped into one of the Grizzlies. She started up the cannon and Mikhailovich airlocked her. So the story goes, anyway."

"I was groundside at the time, so I can't say." MacMillan ran her hand over a Mako as they passed. "All I know's what a friend told me. He said the woman was so happy to be rescued, just crying the whole time, shook Mikhailovich's hand, talking normal enough, and then who knows what. She just changed. She had to get off that ship right then. When the batarians take you.. they take all that you are. They change you, and you're not you anymore."

Danvers frowned at the cannon damage. _Stalingrad _was lucky to not have been torn apart from the inside out. But to keep the damage like this was a structural weakness. A folly. Danvers couldn't believe a man as sharp as Mikhailovich would have kept it. Whyever for?

The man himself was coming over the comm now. Mikhailovich preferred to conduct himself in Russian, but the North American voice of his translator device carried across the same level of personal contempt.

"This is _Stalingrad_," Mikhailovich said. "My turf. No bitching. I brought you here so you can see the scorch marks and twisted metal. I want you to walk the cramped hallways, breathe in the sweaty air, and drink the recycled piss water so you know I'm not fucking around. We're at war, and it just got worse. MacMillan, bring them up to the comm room. We're going to have a little talk about the geth."

*******

The perpetual false daylight of the Presidium made Williams uneasy. Even snug in her armor, she felt exposed; it was just her and Shepard stepping out into the wide white vista of the Citadel's finest district. It was only her determination and Phoenix armor that stood between the first human Spectre and any alien bad guy that wanted to take a shot at him. She knew this was bound to be ugly.

She didn't know where the attack would come from, only that it would come. Garrus had explained to her that Spectres often assembled teams of their own, and that they could operate with certain privileges beyond the scrutiny and reproach of ordinary law. Blindsided by Saren's wild turn, C-Sec was still struggling to find, capture, or neutralize the network he had built over the decades of his tenure in Special Tactics.

Williams watched the crowds carefully, searching alien faces, waiting for one of them to reach for a weapon. Alarm registered among some of them, seeing two armed and armored human marines; others were curious or excited, spotting the newest Spectre. Some avoided them. Some stared. Others disapproved, but from a safe distance.

The stories of Shepard's wrath had travelled far.

They'd best hurry. It wouldn't be long before Saren's men made their move, or before the councillor figured out that her little pet was going behind her back.

There was something about this proposition that annoyed and creeped Ashley, but then, it was just business wasn't it. That's what the asari did. Besides-- she'd heard Moreau joking that Shepard preferred close encounters of the turian kind. He better not say that where the commander can hear him!

Shepard happened to glance back at her just then, catching her with a smirk on her face. She wiped it off and gave a stern military nod.

"Lot of Biotic Response Teams out here," he said to her, pointing out a patrol on a lower level. "That's a good sign, at least. Garrus said they're biotic themselves, equipped with the best to prepare for the worst. If Saren hits us, he'll have to hit hard and hit first if he wants to do anything. Snipers is how I'd do it. How's your shields?"

"Good. I can take a wallop."

"They'll probably target me first, anyway," he said. "If it happens, don't help me, go for them right away before you lose them in the crowd."

"Have I mentioned lately that I think this is a bad idea?"

"You got anything better, chief?"

"I don't know. C-Sec actually does their job, arrests Saren's henchmen, the Council pulls the stick out of their collective ass. HQ accepts my transfer. Udina is replaced by that hot snowboarder prince as the human ambassador. Saren dies alone and unloved." I get laid for the first time in like ten months. "And Glitterhoof the Sparklecorn devastates the geth fleet with a rainbow out his ass."

Shepard made a solemn face behind his visor. "I served with Glitterhoof back in '78, he's got my back."

Ten months.

"I like you, Williams. Don't worry about your transfer. I cooked up a solution, by the way. I just need to beam some paperwork back to Arcturus. I got your pay straightened out."

"It's difficult for me to imagine you doing paperwork."

"Why's that?"

She took her eyes from the crowd and gave him a once-over, taking in the power armor, the modded shotgun-- "Mirabelle" was her name-- and the intermittent blue glow that signified dormant biotic powers. He was probably going to do that shield boost thing.

"You just don't seem the type."

"I worked in headquarters for a year." He sounded smug, then. "I got an award. Saved the Alliance two hundred thousand credits in efficiency."

"How in the hell."

"Well, they had this wasteful program where--"

"No, I mean, skipper.. why?"

"Oh. Alliance thought I needed some.. time out. Drugged me to the gills. Put me behind a desk."

"That's terrible."

"It's an important job," he said, a little snippily, she thought. "It's got to get done."

She smiled slightly. Already part of his OCD personality had started to reveal itself to her, the way he had to clean and organize everything, especially when it came to the Mako. She supposed his amp-induced insomnia only magnified that tendency.

They were approaching now the asari statue gardens, crossing the slim arm of a bridge into a plaza of chin-high garden boxes rife with blue grasses and exotic flowers. The alien blooms were striped like a tiger from an acid trip, and as they came up on the first of the displays, an alien animal scuttled for cover, half chameleon and half marmoset. It moved too quickly, but it looked to have six legs. Its eyes had looked almost human.

The councillor's aide stood by the statue of an asari warrior, her ridged head pressed against the slim ankle of the marble depiction. Her hand ranged higher toward the calf. Her eyes were shut, but opened when Ashley and Shepard came upon her.

"Commander Shepard," Anarinda said softly, in a delicate voice. "A pleasure to meet you, and blessings of the Goddess."

"Frisk her."

"I.. as you wish, commander."

Ashley approached the asari.

Up close she could see the mottling of freckles. The paper thin skin. The deep blue blood vessels showing beneath.

Heroin chic.

Feeling for concealed weaponry.

"Take her amp out, she won't need it. The base of her skull."

Ashley looked into her eyes.

Slippery port at the base of her skull.

She felt a twinge of guilt, unease, to be touching someone like this. But the moment passed. The need to keep Shepard safe was overriding any sense of propriety. This Anarinda, she was perhaps hundreds of years old, she knew what to expect. She knew what she agreed to.

"She good?" Shepard said to her.

"So far, yeah."

Shepard pulled off his helmet. "Thank you for meeting with me, Anarinda," he said.

The asari stared for a few moments, and then blinked her soft, placid eyes. "Of course, Shepard," she said. "I do what I must. I believe you. I believe what you have seen."

Ashley moved to position herself where she could still defend him, if she had to. He had his helmet off and this could be incredibly dangerous if something happened. Shepard balanced his helmet on the foot of a playful statue as he went closer to the asari, reaching out a glove for her hand. She met him readily, slender and graceful. Ashley felt like a gorilla in her armor.

By this time, the old battlemaster shuffled into view from the south, scorn on his froggy face.

Ashley never thought she would feel relief at the sight of a krogan.

Their eyes met; she saw his nostrils contract and then flare out, blowing air.

She saw Shepard lick his lips, and she felt a twinge in her belly. Her armor was growing warm.

She saw the muscles in his face relax.

She felt as though she was seeing too much already.

God, he is so beautiful, she thought.

His fingers curled slightly against the nape of her neck.

"Relax, and be calm," she said. "Try to breathe as I breathe."

"I know," he said.

"You may feel a little strange."

With slight annoyance in his tone, he said, "I've done this before."

He licked his lips. She watches his mouth part slightly. What am I watching them do? Ashley thought.

The asari took in a little gasp.

Just do it already, Ashley thought. Wrex was making a snort of a sound, unimpressed.

The alien's eyes went black.

Shepard groaned. She watched his face tense. She saw his knuckles stand out when their hands gripped tighter.

His eyes flew open.

*******

Yeshek Ortalna drew Garrus out of the interrogation room. He went slowly, limping along; the crash that broke his leg had removed him temporarily from patrol, to his everlasting sour attitude.

Garrus had always shared something of a rivalry with the man. Yeshek was two years older than Garrus, from a rival colony, from a rival unit, though they had both been in the same line of work when in the military. They both knew the love of low-gravity vehicles. Both embraced the hatred. Treaded tanks were the scourge of the turian hierarchy, always breaking down, always rattling an axle, always down a tire.

"Still a virgin, Vakarian?" was Ortalna's greeting. His voice still bore traces of his Baetik colony upbringing, which to Garrus only seemed to make his commentary more sarcastic.

"I don't know, I woke up under a tank with a human woman and Urdnot Wrex," he said in his most distressed and incredulous voice.

Yeshek snorted. "Ha ha, really?"

"No. Wrex and the woman stay on their own sides. Fuck you, Ortalna."

Garrus had been hearing the unfortunate rumors of Shepard's interests; all false, of course, well, weren't they? There were so many rumors attached to biotics of all species, the asari in particular, who could not escape the rampant speculation. It was scientific fact that biotic abilities went hand-in-hand with an increased metabolism, the springboard for all sorts of wild imaginings. How would a human and a turian even.. ?

Yeshek shook his head with a low flanging chuckle. "I can't believe you quit, Garrus."

"If you still can't figure it out after all these years, I don't know what to tell you. I'm free."

Ortalna shook his head. "Technically you're not supposed to be here."

"I can be wherever Shepard needs me to be. Spectre business."

"Look Vakarian. I didn't pull you out to fight you. I'm trying to help. If anything happens to Shepard, the executor is going to have our ass. I want to help. One of Saren's henchmen has turned himself in. Tries to give us information, but he's in a bad way."

"What do you mean?"

"Remember the case with the salarian doctor?"

"How could I forget."

"The techie reminds me of some of those people. Kind of a hollow stare. Doesn't react right away. Something's wrong but we don't know what, not yet. It took everything to get him here, you can tell. We moved him to medical, last I heard."

A gaggle of salarians shoved by.

"What's going on?" Garrus looked after them, half-ready to follow.

"Hell if I know. The place has been like this all day." Ortalna shook his head. "What are they asking Dr. T'soni?"

"They want to know about her mother's associations. The comings and goings of people into Benezia's household. They've got a list of commandos who went MIA recently."

"And Liara doesn't know anything? I heard the salarians are getting impatient."

"Salarians are always impatient. And anyway, I don't think she does, she wants to cooperate, but she's not really too helpful. She seems estranged from her mother, and too wrapped up in her archaeology."

"Oh well, it's the thought that counts?" said Ortalna with rich sarcasm.

"We need her for our mission."

"Do you believe him? Shepard?"

"Of course I do."

Yeshek Ortalna stared at him a moment, studying him, and Garrus met the cold yellow eyes that stood out from the swathes of red Baetik-colony paint. "I don't care," Ortalna said, at last, with a shrug, easing away from confrontation. "Personally I wish the Hierarchy would put Saren down. It looks bad if we let the humans do it."

"Exactly," Garrus said. "That's why we hoped the Council would send some ships to help. The humans can't fight the geth and the batarians at the same time."

"I can't believe I'm agreeing with you. But well there you have it. I'd rather the Council dealt with Saren, and they just pointed Shepard at the batarians and let him run wild. That was the original idea, wasn't it? Why there is even a human Spectre?"

Garrus suspected as much. Perhaps some on the Council or in the human Alliance believed this might be some great opportunity, a gesture of faith or inclusion, but Nihlus knew what he was doing. The Butcher of Torfan. "Our mission now... is more important than the batarians."

"All right. Well. I don't care what Shepard raves about, really.. " Yeshek let his mandibles fall open. "All I care is that he has a safe and enjoyable visit to the Citadel, and that nothing exciting happens. It's a security nightmare. I'll be so glad when he zips off again to be crazy in space."

"He's not crazy."

Ortalna snorted. "If you say so."

"Any luck with the krogan we brought in?"

"No. They're just being pushy and sullen. Probably working together. They're about the same age, same clan, judging by the markings, but then again they've always looked alike to me. Neither one of them is saying very much."

"We've moved them to opposite wings, right?"

People were moving now in the corridor junction just ahead, carrying datapads. Someone was spilling coffee.

"Of course."

"And the technician who supposedly defected.. "

"Like I said. We have him in medical." Ortalna flexed his mandibles. "Look, can't you just tell Shepard he's wasting his time with the Council? He can break things and shoot people in space, far from here... "

Pel Votho broke from the junction ahead and came bounding down, his blinky eyes huge. "Ortalna! Come quickly!"

Yeshek grunted. "Not anymore," he said, favoring his hurt leg. "This is just what I was talking about, Vakarian," he said.

"You can't be in here!" Votho cried as Garrus followed, easily outmatching Ortalna as he ducked into one of the side-rooms. "You're not on the force anymore!"

The salarian's protest died quickly, dissolved in the commotion of the room, the talking, murmuring, the dialing of comms, where a crush of officers stared at a bank of holoscreens.

"Ah, shit," said Ortalna. "Is this happening now?"

*******

"You were one of the best on the force. You could have been sitting here at this desk, not me." Executor Pallin leaned back in his chair. "But you've chosen your path and there's little I can do for you now. Don't come to me for favors. I don't work that way. You should know that."

The asari smiled through the thick scar tissue. There were very few still living who would recognize her now, even before the accident. "Everything's negotiable, Rizu," she said. "It's for a good cause. You believed in those once, and maybe you still do.. somewhere beneath all the paperwork."

"And that was your problem," Pallin said. His head was canted to look at the blinking symbols on his screen. "Thinking you knew best. The system works." He depressed the comm button. "What now?"

A salarian voice said, "The asari statue gardens!"

On his screen the camera view popped up:

A marine, Shepard, banging an asari's head into the stone corner of the statue base. Anarinda, the asari councillor's aide and personal favorite.

Another marine trying to wrestle him off.

A huge red krogan standing by, watching. Urdnot Wrex.

The footage looped two or three times before it stuttered and showed what was happening now.

"You see this," Pallin hissed. "This is why. This is why." His eyes snapped up, but Yaera was gone.

*******


	13. Chapter 13

He has always hated this.

Too close, too personal.

Her eyes go black.

He feels the prickle on his skin.

The curious sensation of feeling her feeling him.

He feels the breath go in and out of her.

He feels the tissue-thin fabric she is wearing.

He feels what she feels. There is pain, dull and insistent.

Her eyes go black.

He is trying to think of the beacon. The images. He remembers how Alenko started going toward it and how he stopped him, not knowing what it would do to his marine.

All he remembers is fire, death, torture, the Citadel--

He tries to think of these things when it is all shoved out of his mind.

Instead:

_the beach_

_please no_

_medical laboratory, a table with restraints_

_biting into her wrist_

_a sound so low and terrible it hurts her teeth_

_descending needles_

_vats_

_vats with things in them_

_tanks_

_slime, pain, incessant drilling_

_this isn't what i meant_

_fire_

_it has to be this way_

_the only way_

_no hope_

_can't let you ruin it_

_can't let you kill us all_

The world roared back into being.

Someone pawing, choking at him; he smacked them away with a low level throw. Williams! She was knocked off balance, her face spooked and wide-eyed behind the visor.

There was blood everywhere from the asari.

Anarinda was dead.

"What did you do?" Williams cried.

Wrex was unmoved. "Don't interfere," he told Williams.

"I was going to show her.. but she forced it into my mind first," he said. "She went over to Benezia. Or Benezia found her. I don't know. There's some place.. they did things."

His head swam. He was cold and prickly all over, even in the snug confine of his hardsuit.

"She lured me here to kill me," he said, trying to control his voice. "It's good I took out her amp. She could still try.. but it's good I got her first."

He broke open her head like a melon. This frail willowy creature.

He felt like a madman, a monster. His heart was beating so fast. He still felt the aftershock of the meld, so rudely interrupted.

Then he realized: he can prove it.

"I can prove it," he said. He took out his knife, a Hierarchy military talon, combat issue, the one Margaret gave him.

"They put it in her," he said. "I'll get it out."

*******

Lieutenant Ling stood openmouthed in front of the glowing panels of the Communication Room's vid array. Moments ago she had been in the middle of her presentation on known geth weaponry and capabilities. The sudden override shocked the officers into silence, but Commander Danvers was the first to speak.

"You see," he said, in a wondering, amazed voice, yet anguished that no one before now would have believed him. "You see what Shepard is? I've been trying to tell you, all along.. "

Mikhailovich rested a fist on his mouth. His face was cool, composed, with a hint of contempt in the lines of his eyes. "Lieutenant Ling, thank you for your brief," he said. "Everyone else, clear out. Ling, you stay. Get _Normandy_ on the horn."

*******

It happened all at once, but in different places.

It was about that time that the first krogan prisoner stood up and calmly went to the door of his cell. At the other end of the facility, the other krogan did the same. They were both young, brown, and utterly quiet with a fixity of purpose.

It was about that time that the turian technician left Medical Examination Room Four-A on the second floor of the C-Sec headquarters. The medical examiner lay dead half-on and half-off the bench, a salarian with a twisted neck from where the technician had suddenly become animated and gripped him.

The technician walked calmly through the chaos of the C-Sec HQ; no one really paid him much attention, people running and talking, omnitools out, others running in and out of the armory.

At his destination he stopped and stared at the back of a salarian operator. The salarian was faced away from him, gawking at a bank of vidscreens which showed the detention level quarters. The salarian died easily; the technician stood over the body and touched off a sequence of commands.

The krogan waited patiently, watched the doors slide, and went free. First they would have to reclaim their confiscated armor. The weapons would be there too.

Things got a little exciting then.

The technician's work was not yet complete.

*******

"Commander, stop!" Williams cried. "Shepard! You can't.. Oh, God. That's why she felt so.. " Her hands remembered the hard weird bumps beneath the asari's paper skin.

"Look at it," Shepard snapped. "See? You see?"

Memories from Eden Prime leapt up before her eyes. The Dragon's Teeth. Nirali Bhatia staggering back into the barracks... an hour after she had been killed in action. Reaching hands--

"Shepard, I know, it just looks-- C-Sec will find it all out," she said. "Like one of those cop shows. We just have to get you out of here."

"So I guess this was the plan all along," Wrex mused. "If she didn't kill you, the biotic response team will. Who's gonna listen to you, in the heat of the moment?" He snorted, and then brought his helmet visor down. "I've seen it all before. This krogan's on a rampage. Urdnot is out of control. Well Shepard, we better get out of here, less you want to tangle with the force's best and brightest."

Shepard was fixed on something metal on the end of his knife, turning it this way and that, getting it to glint out of blood in the Presidium false daylight. "I've got nothing to hide," he said, his voice still a little shaky. "She was going to kill me. She's been spying on the Council all along--"

Williams reached into his collar and yanked him upright. She couldn't take it anymore, and slapped the knife out of his hand. She surprised him with the swiftness of her action that he instantly had a hand around her upper arm in response, all wild and edgy.

"Call Garrus, tell him what's happened," he told her, letting her go as soon as he saw they weren't alone.

The Biotic Response Team was just there, standing there like they had always been there, like they were just another exhibit in the asari statue gardens. There were at least five that Williams could see, all asari, in the dark blue armor of Citadel Security.

Bloody and bareheaded, Shepard just stared at them a moment before he stepped over Anarinda's corpse, placing him between the two teams. He dipped his filthy hands into a gently tinkling fountain.

"I know what this looks like," he said, in a jerky, uneven voice. "But I'm not going to fight you. I won't resist. In fact, I think we should go back to C-Sec right now. I think they'd be interested to know what's been going on all this time."

Their team leader fired on him. The first shot hit him square, and he staggered with a crackle of shields.

Then they all started to fire.

*******

Chaos in Headquarters.

"Get Vakarian out of here!" one of the turian lab analysts was yelling. "Get him out of here, he's working for Shepard!"

"Don't overreact!" a salarian officer stammered. "We don't even know--"

Garrus slapped away the turian hands that were trying to grab onto his upper arm. "You're off the force!" snarled a detective he didn't know. "You're out of here!"

He tried to back out of another attempt to grab him, but two others caught him, restrained him.

Static came from his suit radio, and then a frantic human voice. "Garrus!"

Williams.

Ortalna tried to step in. "Wait, if you can talk to them, tell him--"

"Tell him to stand down!" someone else yelled.

"He's attacking them!"

"...working for Benez.." Static, and Williams' wild voice. "Shepard!" Gunfire over the comm.

Pel Votho was trying to put Garrus in cuffs.

Even through the prothean floors and the chaos of C-Sec, up came the muffled but distinctive bone-shaking roar of a krogan.

Then the power went out.

*******

Shepard trying to get his helmet back is the last thing Wrex sees before the shockwave hit. It seemed to happen in slow motion: the volleys of fire, the man diving behind a maiden statue, a glove shooting out to grab the lip of his helmet. Wrex was thinking how easy it was to ventilate a human skull, or how quick it was to rupture somebody's head with dark energy.

Then Wrex was airborne, hitting the right pauldron of his armor on the plinth of a column. He wiped out down on the walkway, tumbling and rolling, his arm on fire from shoulder to fingertip. His helmet was awash with warnings and blinkings in Ghursti script.

The old battlemaster rolled back on his feet, feeling the world tilt and lurch, but he still heard gunfire and the distinctive gulping blast of Shepard's shotgun. The Spectre was still alive, at least. Maybe not by the time Wrex got back there, though, judging from the distance of the throw.

He was down in the walkway, by the lake, which was rapidly clearing out of crowds. That vexing bitch-bot Avina had popped up from her console, talking in her pleasant voice.

An explosion went off in the distance. Grenade.

Suddenly Wrex found himself staring at a krogan right in front of him. Too young to have formed much of a hump. Brownish, from a clan that Wrex did not know. Soft blue eyes.

"There is a place," the young krogan said. "Come with us to the place."

*******

Citadel Security Headquarters:

Cuffed to a rail, Garrus jangled his restraint uselessly. He planted a foot up on the rail and tried pushing off. He ran up and down the ramp a few steps, trying to find somewhere to pull the cuff free. The sound of gunfire and stunners. People rushing, fighting.

He tried to use his communicator but it was jammed now. Figured.

This was Saren's last chance on the Citadel. All his assets, all his resources-- he'd have to use them up now when he still had the ability. This was his last shot at Shepard. I'd have done the same, if I were him, Garrus thought. For a moment he almost understood why Pallin hated the Spectres-- the devastating damage they could cause if they wanted, if they no longer fought for the forces of good.

It burned him, too, to think how a monster like Saren could be trusted with such a position, when others went overlooked. Himself, for one, and hell-- Captain Anderson.

_I have to get out of here. They'll kill Shepard. If they haven't already._

Garrus tried to flatten his fingers and pull the cuff off that way. No luck.

Ah, well. He didn't want to do this.

Garrus chose his hand carefully. He will need the other for his gun. Then he took hold of his thumb in a very tight grip..

*******

Below, in the detention wing: prisoners touched the doors of their cells, and realized now that it was only fear that held them back.

Above, in interrogation: Liara crowded closer to Kaidan, feeling his body in the dark, his hand firm on her upper arm. Back-up power came on, weak and dim, and in that half-light she saw the krogan. It was young, the youngest she'd ever seen, with oddly soft blue eyes.

*******

Garrus went straight to the interrogation rooms, clutching the hand with the dislocated thumb. Oh hells, it hurt.

People running past him.

He found a dead krogan there. Bullets ripped up the walls.

Liara was in a panic.

Alenko glowed with blue-black light, a warning pulse that flickered away in recognition. "Garrus," he said. "My comm's jammed, what's happening?"

"Mine too," Garrus said. "Look-- I think it's all a setup."

"The krogan got themselves arrested so they could be here, be in place."

"And someone's trying to jam our communication," Garrus said. "Probably that technician."

"Shepard--"

Garrus sighed. "Shepard killed the councillor's aide."

Alenko shut his eyes. "No," he said.

"She was probably in on all this. But now the Biotic Response Teams are trying to take him down."

Liara moaned. "I don't think they're really from C-Sec," she said. "I can't remember a time they ever even got into a real fight. They always give so many warnings, they always restrain.. "

"Oh, hells," Garrus said.

Alenko sagged, as though he aged ten years in as many seconds. "Are you telling me," he said, "you think it's your mother's asari commando unit?"

"I knew something was off," Garrus said. "I should have seen it.. "

"I have to get to him," Alenko said quietly.

"We can't leave Liara. They'll probably come for her in all the confusion."

The marine was rapidly spinning up some options. None of them very good. "Garrus, you take Liara, just get out of here. I have to go get Shepard. I can't just let them gun him down like a dog."

"Right. You'll have to hurry. They're going to put this place in lockdown once they get in control again. Don't try to go to the docks. I'll mark on your map."

Alenko paused, just before he ducked out. "Thanks for everything, Garrus. You made the right choice, and you'll make a good Spectre someday."

*******


	14. Chapter 14

"I'm as surprised as any of you," remarked Gwekga the Spectre. "I have nothing to do with this."

She stood calm in the eye of the storm, arms crossed, face schooled to innocence, as C-Sec personnel, and STG analysts darted about all around her.

"In light of recent events-- we won't be needing you here," the salarian councillor spoke up, tearing his eyes away from the latest blinking report.

"Well, I'll be in the neighborhood," she went on, shrugging, making fluttery female gestures of innocent conversation. "Looking for Admiral Mikhailovich, really. But I suppose he'd be busy right now. Starting the Second Contact War and all that.. "

The salarian councillor pointed. "Go," he said.

The asari Spectre shrugged, made a gesture of obeisance and turned to leave the maelstrom of the audience chambers. A salarian secretary swerved to avoid her and dumped a mess of datapads everywhere. Gwekga stepped around the scatter with a ladylike swish. "Would it be too soon to say I told you so?" she asked on her way out.

The council had convened that rotation to settle a trade dispute, ambiguous verbiage on territorial rights put forth by the hanar, the situation of the missing salarian dalatrassette, and of course, the Shepard problem.

Gwekga had 'dropped by' on the pretense of looking for the human officer, but what she really intended to do on the Citadel was anyone's business. There wasn't any evidence to prove she was working with Saren-- but then, there wasn't much to say she wasn't, either.

Yaera Plati was here on the station too, one of the newer asari Spectres. She had been inducted within the salarian councillor's lifetime, honored by his predecessor. So far as the salarians could tell, Yaera was here to get information from her old C-Sec acquaintance, Executor Pallin-- less likely than ever to help her now.

Ielran Rakeen was here. Somewhere. Retired, but she had emerged from retirement before.

All of them ran the risk of interference. A strong batarian streak in Gwekga from her sire. Yaera, who might throw a wrench in the works in trying to do the right thing-- whatever the right thing was. And Ielran Rakeen, who stood side-by-side with Admiral Fatha and Commander Vyrrnus when a beaten and broken general handed over the bloody flag of Shaanxi.

No one on the council knew just yet what was going to happen.

"No new updates from HQ," one of the C-Sec staff was saying. His eyes were blinky and anxious. "Their systems are down, and we're trying to get more people in there."

"I want contact with the executor," demanded their turian counterpart.

"Of course-- as soon as it's possible."

"And where is Liara T'soni?" asked Councillor Tevos. Her face was hard.

"We-- we don't know."

The turian made a slashing gesture with his hand. "Nevermind her for now," he said, "what about Shepard?"

"My lady, gentlemen," said Captain Dhreppa of the STG-5 team, "my team integrity is still intact and we are ready for orders. This is-- a regretful situation. Unthinkable. Saren clearly had men on the inside, and of course we all had high hopes for the first human Spectre, but the mission was doomed from the start. I'm no expert, but it looks like the prothean beacon was too much for his mind to contain. Well-documented." He blinked. "With your permission, I can recommend a course of action.. "

* * *

Aw, hell, Bailey thought. How'd it come to this.

Only a couple months ago, around the time of his daughter's pageant at the Citadel Allied School, there'd been talk of a human Spectre. In the lockers and the break-rooms of C-sec, it was an open secret, wondered about, and wagered about. None of the turians he'd talked to thought the humans were ready. They thought it was all just a rumor. Then there were names. Investigations. Bailey always thought it was going to be Mattingly or nobody.

The Hero of the Blitz. Hell of a story, that kid. Orphaned street rat makes good. From the gutters to the stars. Bailey had seen him once when they held that parade on the Citadel, that asari festival of Long Time or whatever, and everybody in all the costumes of their countries. Mattingly was a goddam hero, decked out in the blocky white suit of the ancient astronauts, smiling and waving. A security nightmare. Bailey remembered him as a humble and kindly looking young man, dark with warm eyes.

Bailey knew he'd have made a good Spectre. Shame about his death, so sudden, so random. Only Lieutenant Young could have come close on the list, but the events on Akuze had swiftly ended her career. Bailey had seen her in action once, a rare and talented biotic. But the horror of her last mission and the loss of her unit had been a pain too much to bear. They had treated her at a military hospital, tried to stop all the screaming, but she had escaped and no one knew where to find her.

A damn weird world when they chose the Butcher of Torfan to be their Spectre. That had been the real headscratcher round the office. A joke. A water cooler kind of rumor. But there he was, there he'd been, and was anyone truly surprised that this all had happened? Shepard was dangerous. A force of nature. But who could really tell which way the wind was going to blow..

Bailey stood in a lift crammed with officers on their way up to the Alliance docks. His heart ached with the orders they were about to carry out.

There was a nervous energy in the elevator, the jostling of bulky ceramic plates, the checking and rechecking of humming weapons. The view was all blue. Head fringes. A salarian rocking on his heels. A leathery smell and the acrid secretion of fear. It was said that Admiral Mikhailovich was due to arrive soon, or had already arrived. The Hammer of Qutaaru.

This was getting worse by the second.

The Alliance was undocking ships against orders. Hell, Bailey didn't blame them, with C-Sec falling apart all around them. Systems all unlocked in the detention wings; communications spotty or jammed altogether; Saren's henchmen coming out of the woodwork everywhere you turned.

"Remember your position. Citadel Security first, and human second," Fassa Tizia told him, a big turian, the biggest he'd seen. Females larger than the males, like birds. Her sharp eye on him now, the membrane blinking over it. "In the time we received our orders and got into this elevator, he's killed two officers on the forward team."

The doors slid open to the roar of the docks. Engines, rushing air, and the sound of gunships spooling up in the Citadel Security vehicle bays located below.

Lieutenant Girard there, young kid, with huge eyes. Bailey knew him from before. A good kid. He'd come from some small village in the south of France. Wanted to see the great wide universe. He was scarcely older than Bailey's boy and now he was all that stood between hardened C-Sec officers and the Systems Alliance.

In the communications room of _Stalingrad_, Admiral Mikhailovich stood amidst glowing arrays populated with the icons of the in-system Alliance ships. Frigates, mostly, from the 63rd Scout Flotilla, and the massive carrier _Lord Lao _packed with single-pilot interceptors.

As his hard eyes flicked from one display to another, he tightened his grip on a set of dogtags not his own.

"_Gettysburg_ is away, sir."

"This is _Nedao_, clean and loose."

"_Marvelous Dragonfly_ is outta here."

Citadel Security hailing him.

The _Lord Lao _opened a channel.

"Admiral Mikhailovich, this is Captain Kin."

"Speak."

"Sir, we are being contacted by Citadel Security who believe it is you who are aboard this vessel."

"They're bitching about the docks."

"Ah..yes."

"Relay this message. Citadel Security can no longer guarantee the safety of Alliance personnel and property. They have clearly been compromised by the agents of Saren Arterius. I'm looking after my people."

"Aye aye, sir."

"_Lord Lao_."

"Yes, admiral?"

"Put your drones on standby."

* * *

"Comm's jammed over at HQ," said Sgt Alvarez, "but I'm getting some static from the LT. It'll clear up when he gets outta there, the place is a damn mess."

Alvarez projected a glowing hologram of the Citadel blueprint. The orange light bathed the faces of the marines clustered close around her.

"Commander, chief, and the krogan are up here," she said, causing the statue gardens to blink. "LT's coming from C-Sec HQ, and we're gonna link up here."

Plaza 112 blinked on the display. Not the greatest location in her opinion, but better than anything else they could manage: the damn Presidium was all bridges and curvy platforms. Too many chokepoints and not enough cover.

The quarian was rocking back and forth on her heels. "I can help," she said.

"Negative," Alvarez said. "You stay here. Too much going on, and I guess if you get a rip in your suit, that's it for you."

"But I am outfitted with a powerful shield generator."

"Stay here and stay out of trouble."

The horrified personnel of the Alliance Geological Services were watching all this in a state of alarm.

Alvarez stood up. "Sir, soon as we're gone, you'll wanna get your cargo loader and push some crates up against the door. Just wait it out, and we'll do what we can."

* * *

Anarinda seemed to be staring straight at him.

Her eyes were still the cloudy black of their joining, but one of the orbs was turned inward from the head trauma. Stone dust from broken statues had settled on her body, sticking to the wet blue blood. So maybe he shouldn't have cut her open with the knife. But he had to find what they put in her. Pushing his fingers into the incision, he had felt a flash before his eyes, a flash from the prothean beacon-- meat-- drilling..

A shot hit a hand's-breadth from his head, knocking the edge off the stone planter box in a puff of smoke and dust. It centered him.

Shepard wasn't sure if it was nerves or his amp acting up, but he swore he could still feel her on him. He felt her how an amputee still feels the ghost of a limb. He should have been smarter than to join with her. He should have known. Nobody does good deeds. He felt cold in his armor. The hairs on his arms were standing up. His spine itched.

Trying to reach back to Garrus wasn't working. Or even to Anderson. Only local looked up. Fuck. Of course they'd screw with communications. It all looked bad and his reputation didn't help this time. He was never going to be the shake hands and kiss babies kind of Spectre. He broke shit. He killed people. Now they'd have him on camera brutalizing a defenseless asari. The footage would also show how the BRT fired on him straightaway, but that was after the fact. Not much consolation. In the fog of war, he'd get gunned down, and they'd probably close the book on it for being all for the best.

It was going to be a bitch getting out of this one.

He couldn't differentiate his enemies by sight alone. All in the same blue C-Sec armor. Black markings on it to set them apart as the Biotic Response. Whatever happened to the cops that were really supposed to be here. Wasn't looking good for them. Dead probably.

He tagged them in the group display, just made them Asari 1, Asari 2, Asari 3, and so on. Helped him figure out how many there were, but even he didn't know.

Wrex was still alive, at the least. Good to have him in their corner. Forget his leathery hide, his layers of fat, his redundant organs and rapid healing; the old battlemaster had centuries of experience that Shepard could pit against the enemy squad. Shepard lost visual when the asari threw him, but the krogan's icon still showed in the HUD.

Williams appeared in his peripheral, her armor dirty down the front from where she dove down into a garden box. She got off a burst before she tensed, double-checked, and then ran up to his patch of cover. He let Mirabelle fire off a blind blast to give Ash a chance. She was pressed up against him now.

"Stay loose and stay low," Shepard told her. "They're going to try throwing us. Don't let them break your arm or leg. Roll with it. Remember what I said."

Back on Therum, he didn't know who they were going to fight. He thought Benezia. He thought asari commandos. Liara, maybe. He thought she was working for her mother. He'd spent all that time installing a physics threshold in his suit, briefing Ash on fighting biotics. Came in handy.. but not in the way he expected.

He could hear her rapid breathing, but she didn't look winded yet. Just excited. There was a green slime over one pauldron and down the side of one breast. She must have smashed some fruit from one of the decorative vines. There were little seeds in it, making him think of strawberry seeds. Behind the visor, her eyes darted back to his, and he gave a brusque nod. She wasn't freaked out yet. Good. If she caved, it was just him up here, and they were outnumbered already. It might give him the freedom to go wild with his powers, but how long would his amp hold up?

Maybe it was a blessing that Williams never fought like this before. Biotics were still new and weird to her. Magic. She probably thought he could solve all this with a wave of his hand. She'd never gone against a biotic enemy before. She never had to think it through. Out there in the Verge, going against batarian shock troopers, Shepard saw years of broken bones, dislocations, cracked skulls, and hell, on more than one occasion, he saw Margaret throw a guy off into space. One of his young marines got a punctured lung. Another one from a different squad went blind after a knock to the head. It wasn't all pretty colors and magic powers, not all gee-whiz stuff you saw in the vids.

They were going to die. Probably. If he'd been drinking coffee, standing around a galaxy map in some old bird, like back on _Lord Lao_, and someone described this setup to him, he'd have bet against the three-man squad every time. Asari were dangerous. Their soldiers were the best of the best. This squad had more weapons and more numbers. And more years.

Shepard's whole career had been to take young men and women and turn them into a team. He taught them how to work together and how to get things done out in the wild frontier. But the asari had decades-- had centuries. It was possible that this team could have drilled together since his ancestors sailed in wooden galleons.

This was going to be bad.

But he had an advantage. What had happened to Anarinda had happened to them. He was sure of it. He had seen-- things. The squad should have worked better than it did. More a coherent unit. But each one seemed to press forward with mindless determination. Their shots were sloppier than Shepard expected. He was still alert, souped up on adrenalin.

If they played their cards close, and didn't get too excited, Shepard figured they had a slim chance of getting out of this. If he could break out of their hold, he might be able to maneuver to the far wall and get over the side. They'd have enough oxygen to survive under the Citadel lake, if it came to that. God only knows what was down there.

The asari team pressed forward. One of them put herself right out in the open, and Williams ripped her shields with a burst from her Lancer. It was of little concern to the asari, who only shifted behind a statue when the shields sizzled away. On his display, Shepard saw the shields register dead in depleted blue block symbols. He pulled Williams back down; she was too eager and making herself a target.

"Don't get carried away," he said. "Play it careful and we'll whittle them down."

She nodded. He lifted his head to look over the top, only to duck back when new pistol fire sounded.

Shepard signalled Williams and she popped up to lay down fire. With his right arm and a twist of his body he gave a swift rendition of what the turians called Cold Wind at the Dawn. He felt the flare at the base of his skull and the rush that went out of him. The shockwave ripped up leaves, turf, tile, and splintered a statue in two. When the top half slid away in a heavy diagonal chunk, the freshly killed commando was revealed behind it. Williams thumped him on the shoulder.

"Skipper," she said.

"Yeah."

"I brought some grenades."

* * *

David Anderson stood in dress blues in the back room reserved for his use at the embassy. At one time it had been let to the batarians, and before them, the quarians. There was still faint evidence of their tenure in the form of Rannochi script carved into the far wall. It was this graffiti that David now investigated.

This was his quarters. He hadn't unpacked yet; his duffelbag still leaned upright against the desk, where datapads and books were strewn. One old book in black was dogeared, water-damaged, set aside. A gift for Johnny, found by chance the last time he was in London, sold to him by a scowling junk dealer who had no notion of its real value.

David heard a far-off and unmistakeable roar. There wasn't a lot of time now. They were going to shoot Shepard down like a dog. In the next room, Udina panicked, wondering how in all worlds he was going to salvage his position of power at this point.

He pressed in on the quarian graffiti. The panel clicked, sank back into the wall, and uncovered the hidden alcove. The batarians had never learned what the former inhabitants had built there. When David discovered the nook the first time, he found a cache of weapons and some oddities which yet remained. He didn't know what to do with them; so there they stayed.

The alcove held his old Kassa Fabrication Harpoon, still lovingly cared for, and his old hardsuit in dull matte black.

* * *

Danata T'Veen does not think of the events that led her here. The summons from Benezia, the quest to find Saren and quell his anger at the humans. The desire to protect the mistress. The great discovery. Saren's reasons. Shiala crying. The deep humming voice in her head that blocks out any other thought. It talks there still. Remember. Remember what you are here to do.

She knows only the mission.

It is all meat.

Shepard dodges and weaves behind the statuary of the legendary gardens. Though they are replicas of pieces in the museums of her homeworld, their price is beyond measure. They are gods and heroes, saints and legends, brought to the Citadel before the humans, before the turians, before the salarians, when the asari were all alone and left wondering at the vastness of the universe.

Danata T'Veen thinks nothing of them when she throws a grenade, or when her sisters unload another volley of pistol fire.

It does not matter. There is no use for anything anymore.

* * *

One by one the human frigates disengaged from the docking allowed to them by the folly of the Council.

Commander Vizata watched them through the narrow viewport of the _Warrior's Fang_. They scattered like prey, ducking and weaving through the swirling gases of the nebula.

"They run like cowards," said the pilot, his talons playing over the controls yet not quite touching.

"Their fear proves their wrongdoing," Vizata said.

"What are your orders, sir?"

"Pursue. We will bring them back to answer for their behavior."

Vizata spun on his heel and walked the long bridge. The painted faces of his clan were engrossed in the readouts from their terminals.

Foolish council. How could the turian councillor bring any sort of balance and reason to the proceedings when Tevos and that frog salarian kept veering wildly in all directions?

Wild reports were coming out of the Presidium. It was said the human Spectre was on a tear, killing everyone, that he was making his way to the Council. Vizata wasn't surprised that the humans would try to take over the Citadel-- only the way they chose to do so.

The Combat Information Center glowed with a staging of Widowspace and all the pertinent objects and actors: prothean structures like the Citadel and the relay; military vessels belonging to the Hierarchy and then others from outside races; even smaller craft registered. The orderly flow of traffic was now disrupted and the little lights moved frantically as C-Sec patrols diverted ships.

The human carrier _Lord Lao _was here. He had never seen a carrier in live action, but in Command School, the analysts ran models and simulations to test the capabilities of the unique Allied warship. They could spawn out teams of single-pilot interceptors. No one was quite sure yet what to do with them exactly.

"What is the status of the human carrier," Vizata said.

"Sir, the _Lord Lao _is loitering in this system. No significant action."

"Lying in wait. What of the interceptors? Any sign of launch activity? Heat signatures?"

"No significant action, sir."

"We will see. It is said that Admiral Mikhailovich is here in-system. He will be on this ship _Lord Lao_."

Vizata rounded the circular display and mounted the podium. In deep space travel the display would revert to show the gleaming arms of the Milky Way.

The human frigates were taking evasive action, vectoring further out of Citadel space. The _Warrior's Fang_ pursued in a resolute trajectory. Even now, if Vizata so desired, the Fang could sunder them with a blast from its lasers. However a righteous kill that would be-- a good example to make of this unruly human species-- it would upset the asari and cause without doubt some sort of incident. Vizata knew better, but he could not just stand by while the humans dashed away like a child who has broken a vase.

His keen eye watched the models of the _Nedao_ and the _Marvelous Dragonfly_, ducking beneath the far side of the Citadel, skirting past civilian traffic, C-Sec patrols, a hanar science vessel and a volus merchant caravan. A Hierarchy cruiser loitered nearby, the _Cliffs of Blue Shadow_.

The caravan master hailed the _Fang_. "What is happening? What is going on?" The volus gasped. "Are the humans attacking? Why can't we make berth?"

Vizata flicked his mandibles. He nodded dismissively to his XO, who gave a terse non-explanation-- ("..And that is all we can tell you at this time"). The thing that annoyed him most about the volus was that even hidden in their suits, with no discernible expression or identifying feature, they insisted on showing every emotion. They held no bearing whatsoever, and it was to Vizata's embarrassment that the Hierarchy had made them a client race.

After closing the channel, the XO said, "I cannot believe this is happening."

"If one good thing has come of this," Vizata said, "it is that the Council has now learned its lesson. They have offered such a high honor to the humans, and this is how they are repaid. Shameful."

The XO bowed his head. "It pains me that Arterius had to take the fall for this," he said.

"Saren Arterius will survive this episode," Vizata said. "In two years, no one will remember the wild allegations against him. Eden Prime was destroyed by the batarians. Everyone knows this. The geth have not been seen beyond the Veil since my grandfather strapped on his first set of armor. And in HIS day, you would never--"

"What are they doing?" the XO stiffened.

Vizata cocked his head.

In the great display, the icon of the turian cruiser lit and blinked. _THV Cliffs of Blue Shadow_ had positioned itself into the _Fang_'s trajectory.

Vizata spat, "Open a channel."

Static hissed and then Vizata spoke. "I am Commander Vizata of the _Warrior's Fang_. _Cliffs of Blue Shadow_, alter your trajectory. This vessel is in pursuit of criminal Allied craft."

The deep voice that responded spoke in a language that baffled Vizata. He exchanged a glance with his executive officer, hissed, and gripped the podium. He began again.

"_Cliffs of Blue Shadow_. This is _Warrior's Fang_. Alter your trajectory now."

A deeply accented voice rippled across the CIC. "Warrior Fang, you alter your trajectory. We go where we like. That is a right not yet taken from us."

"Galatani troublemakers," groaned the XO.

Vizata tightened his grip. "I should have known from the name." A reference to the Twilight World, where their stubborn colony made a futile last stand in the Unification War. "And from their interference." He raised his voice, impatient. "Who am I speaking to?" He didn't have time for this.

"You speak to a pure turian," replied the voice from Blue Shadow. "I will try to talk in this mongrel tongue of yours. I am Commander Talongan."

"Commander Talongan. You are interfering with the apprehension of these Allied vessels." Vizata puffed up.

The answer was immediate, flippant. "Yes, well, whyyyy not?"

"You don't deny it!"

Vizata shot a glance at his crew. "You, there. Give me scans of the _Blue Shadow_ and pull up a personnel report. Now."

One of helmsmen, from the other clans, was taking some amusement from the situation until a very sharp glance put him in his place. His Baetik-painted face turned away as he busied himself suddenly in readouts.

The pilot came over the comm. "Sir, what are your orders?"

Vizata growled. "Take us around them."

The massive hulk of the _Blue Shadow_ moved to match them.

"You are deliberately protecting these humans," snapped Vizata, "sheltering them when, even now, Alliance marines are shooting and killing Citadel officers, and who knows what else is happening."

"We are hearing a lot of crazy talk," the Galatani commander replied, light and easy. "Most-i-ly we ignore. Your language so ugly to us. Puts it a bad taste in my mouth already. But it is you we protect. Even after what you mongrels have done, _Blue Shadow_ saves you from yourself."

The XO gave him a quick, startled glance.

"Send this to the communications room," Vizata hissed. "And stay on course."

"It will be done."

Vizata stomped away to answer this extraordinary behavior in private. "Who is the commander of that vessel? I demand to speak to your captain."

"You would not be able to understand him talking. Him just put me back on to talk to you. I don't want go get him. He is always sooo mad."

"I don't have time for your games," snapped Vizata.

"Too bad. I'm very good gravball and at the Tetrissss."

"You are shielding these human criminals against their rightful apprehension. You stand against a fellow officer in the Hierarchy, if that even means anything to you!"

"_Blue Shadow_ protects you. She come in verrrillly gentily and keep you from be-stupidening yourself."

"That's not even a word," Vizata snapped.

"You don't even have real language, honestily," the Galatani replied, in a ho-hum sort of voice. "Do you even know what happening right now?"

"Commander Talongan. I demand satisfaction for your insults."

"No thaaank you. Nope. Go laay down then you feel better."

"So you decline the ring of honor?"

"No honor in whipping a mongrel. I do it but then I looks bad.."

"You inbred, skull-faced coward. You make mock of me over a communications channel, but you haven't the grit to say it to my face?"

"Very fine. You come in shuttle out to _Blue Shadow_... we stand face to face then, yes?"

"Galatani wretch." He'd never come off that hell-ship alive. The Galatani were obsessed with what happened on their old colony. It was said they rigged up skeletons in their ships to pay homage to their ancestors. Weird and wrong. They should have all been wiped out-- for so long they had been a thorn in the side of the Hierarchy.

"As for your mongrel clan.. how could one of you hope to defeat me when your greatest hero killed by a human child?"

That anyone would dare bring up the fate of Commander Vyrrnus, legend of the Relay Incident.. !

"Wellp," Talongan said, "Got to go, Captain is angrily and I think it is mee. Uh oh? You see I get in so much turrrouble just trying help you? But I proteck you VERY good this time, yesss, though you do not deserve. Have a grrreat day. MUCH honor! _Den gura den galta_!"

Vizata had never before been spoken thus in his military career. In a cold rage he returned to the CIC, where his XO gave him a weak mandible-flip and bad news.

"Sir, the Alliance frigates have made it out of range," the XO said weakly. "What are your orders?"

* * *

An armored krogan floated twenty yards above the topiary by the Yallat Memorial Bridge.

"Well, guess I know where the LT's at," Alvarez said. "Light em up."

"There's one that won't get back up," Fredericks said.

Alenko crossed the bridge, sealed up in his hardsuit with glowing green eye clusters. "Nice shooting," he said, and when Alvarez saluted him, he snapped one off sharply in return.

"I want everyone to plate up just like me. Get ready to go on oxygen. They might try gas to take us out easy. Or they might try to throw us in the lake-- it's what I'd do." He looked up from his display and the tech faceplate turned to count them off. "You didn't bring the quarian?"

"No sir. Didn't want her to get shot."

We could have used her jammer. "I understand."

This was going to get messy.

"I'm taking point."

"Sir."

"Not open for discussion. My powers are perfect for crowd control. You are not to fire unless fired upon. We just want Shepard.. but we can't let anything happen to him."

* * *

Garrus took a pistol from a dead officer. One of the humans. It was hard to tell the sex from the blocky shape of the hardsuit and the bloody crater of the face. The jammer was strong here, interfering with the hardsuit sig; text finally shimmered in Garrus' visor to show DASGUPTA, OLIVER, from Computer Crimes.

Liara had finally noticed the shape of his hand. "Oh, your hand!" she cried, and by this time he was starting to marvel at how they ever thought she was evil.

He pulled her into an alcove when three turian officers went bounding by.

"They'll be too busy rounding up the escapes," he murmured to her.

Over the noise, she said, "What?" and watched his face.

"Never mind. They won't bother us."

Most or all of the prisoners could be tracked down. All wore tracking devices and some could be shocked or incapacitated by remote. But it took time and they would cause trouble in the interim, especially in the fog of war with all the excitement and frazzled communications. Saren was banking on this. He'd had decades to learn the ins and outs of Citadel weaknesses. All of that inside knowledge and sharp planning, wasted-- Saren could have done so much more in life, for the Hierarchy and for the Council Races, if only he could have gotten past his hatred of humanity. Garrus would have done better.

The corridor opened up into a junction heaped with bodies. No lights here, and so Garrus couldn't recognize the species of the corpses they had to step over. Liara balked and he had to step back and push her along to get her going again. Gunshots echoed somewhere close and muzzle flashes lit up the end of one hallway. Garrus shoved Liara into an office and followed, ducking in there. Three turian officers came backing up, firing on a rampaging krogan. Liara started to glow blue, wanting to help them, but Garrus kept her still.

It wasn't worth giving away their position, not yet. They still might try to arrest or detain her. They might not even give her that courtesy. Three turians to one krogan was good odds, anyway, and Garrus expected more of C-Sec officers.

Garrus liked to think he was good at telling different races apart. He could give a positive identification of most salarians and humans he met on a day-to-day basis, and he didn't have to cheat with his visor readout. He could tell different krogan, too, but then, they had different armor and different markings. Scuffs, scrapes, and scars accumulated over centuries. Hump sizes. Eye color. Strange that the krogan he'd been seeing all over the Citadel would all look so similar. Perhaps it was the dim lighting, but this one looked like two others he'd seen. Maybe Saren pulled them all from the same clan. Young ones with no bitter memories of the war that sparked their gradual extinction.

The krogan fell dead, and two of the three officers still fired on it. Good. Krogan always get back up. You have to watch out.

The other looked up, and Garrus tensed. They needed to move. Now. There was another exit out the back of the office.

"Block the doorway," he snapped to Liara, and she lifted and threw a table to cover their escape. She flinched as she did so; she didn't want to hit anyone.

They bounded through the back office, rounding some workstations and funneling out the side. The auxiliary lights were weak here, and he boosted his visor readout to tell him object proximity. He hated this mode-- so visually distracting-- but keen turian eyesight was nothing in the dark.

Right around the corner was the way up to Communications-- and Officer Hathax was there already, pistol drawn.

"Vakarian, I don't know what's happening, but you have ten seconds to convince me you're not in on this."

"Yes, it was all me," Garrus drawled, "how did you know?" Liara made a horrified face.

Garrus cocked his head in a gesture that gave off extra sarcasm, but also let him check his surroundings. He wouldn't kill Hathax, but he'd put him out if he had to. The turian officer stood alone with the ramp up to Communications beyond. The door was shut. Locked probably.

"That forward team is all fake," Liara rushed out, making an anxious wring of her hands. "They're all Benezia's rogue commandos. I just know it. They'll kill Shepard before the dust settles. Please, officer.. This is all a terrible mistake. You've got to let us restore communications."

Hathax met Garrus' eyes and stared hard. He was from Parthia colony and Vakarian always thought his choice of paint was the most distracting color. Hadn't anyone told him.

"They've got a jammer or something," Hathax said.

Garrus noted the slight flex of his mandibles. He'd cave. "I know," he said. "And as soon as we get in there, we can clear this all up." He edged closer. "You can't even get orders from Pallin, can you? What were you told to do?"

"I was on break when this happened. I.. we were going to go grab something to eat." Hathax lowered his weapon a fraction. "My partner's dead. The freaks jumped him when they got out of their cell."

Liara said gently, "Please, let us help you, we can fix this if we work together."

Scorn registered on Hathax's face. Garrus felt the same stab of annoyance, but, hell, Liara was trying.

"She's in on it," Hathax snapped. The pistol came back up. "Has to be."

"We don't have time for this," Garrus said. He was within two lunge-lengths of the older officer. He could take Hathax down if he had to, but the mood shifted as another round of gunfire went off somewhere.

"Doors are sealed from the inside," he grumped, holstering his weapon. "It's no use."

Liara stepped back in with the eternal asari optimism. "Is there no other way in?"

"No. It's a damned prothean death trap. Every building in here is specifically designed to herd you into a corner and get shot. No wonder the protheans are all dead."

Liara said, "Now, that's not true, I've--"

"There are windows," Garrus said. He remembered the layout from working one of his back-to-back shifts in there a couple years ago. That asari festival with the huge parade. A security nightmare. "Behind the row of consoles against the far wall."

"Right, well, how are we going to get there?"

Garrus glanced over to Liara.

* * *

Kaidan and the marines made their way down. Faceplates up and sealed tight.

In the gardens, a grenade killed one asari commando and chunked the statue Maiden Gathering Flowers, sending chips and shards of Illu marble in all directions. Unaffected by the explosion and unmoved by the sight, two other commandos advanced through the cloud of stone powder and moved in on the human position.

Back at C-Sec, Garrus Vakarian shut his eyes, sighed, and said: "I'm ready." He wished he'd brought his helmet, but too late for that now.

A blue glow surrounded him and he was lifted, repositioned, and told "Sorry," by a truly apologetic Liara T'soni.

Behind the locked doors of the communications array, the ghastly form of Saren's technician loomed over the bank of consoles. He had completed his mission and had no other use. He controlled all communications from Headquarters. The executor was cut off, isolated, and the Council would hear nothing until it was all over.

Movement caught his eye and his head inclined. He looked up from the blinking consoles just in time to see an armored turian body break through the windows in a shower of glass.


	15. Chapter 15

The _Stalingrad_ Communications Room was a kaleidoscope of live feeds, readouts, blinking icons, and the orange glimmer of information popups. Mikhailovich had not yet emerged into the CiC, where the frenetic activity would be worse. He needed calm. His best decisions were made in solitude. A few years ago, he'd been building a model ship in a bottle when he gave the green light on Qutaaru.

Of his entourage, only the scholarly Lieutenant Ling remained. She had a severe face, hair drawn back, with large dark eyes that betrayed her secret need for approval. She would be pretty if she permitted herself to be. Right now, she had a hand to her earpiece, hunched over a datapad, her omnitool in the middle of a projection. The miniature form of the turian cruiser _Cliffs of Blue Shadow _hung in the air, glowing gently, rotating to show its bulk from every angle.

Ling cut off the holo immediately and turned to him. "Sir," she said. "We're being hailed by the Council flagship!"

Mikhailovich made a 'shoo, run along now' gesture. "Thank you, Ling," he said. "Tell 'em to put the bitch on."

In the lieutenant's absence, a voice like ethereal music filled the chamber. "This is Admiral Lidanya of the _Destiny Ascension_."

"Yeah, what do you want?"

"Do not escalate the present situation."

"Those beak ships are going after my men. I'm not going to just let them sit there."

"I repeat, do not escalate the situation. We do not yet have an accurate picture of the events on-station."

"You don't even know, so it's automatically our fault."

"Commander Shepard has killed an innocent civilian and an untold number of Citadel Security officers."

"They probably had it coming."

"When will you put aside your hatred of non-human races?"

"When will you make me a sandwich?"

"Sexist remarks do not become you."

"On the contrary, I'm told it's very me. I keep getting talked-to about it."

"Dmitry.. "

"Don't _Dmitry_ me."

Her voice lowered. "This is a very delicate situation, Dmitry. Everything's in chaos. Anything could happen. I'm afraid there are some who would view this as their window of opportunity."

"You really think?"

"I can't always protect you."

"Not when it really matters. Typical asari. You'll give me a little pat on the back when it suits you, makes you feel all good about yourself, but when I really need a goddamn hand you're nowhere to be found. You leave me to the wolves."

"Dmitry.. "

"I question the timing. The last decade, your Council masters have been wringing their hands over the batarians. They hardly lift a finger to do anything about the slavers, the raids, the attacks. When we finally gear up to sort out those sons of bitches, the geth pop out of nowhere and we're bogged down on a two-front war. With no help in sight. Kind of funny how the Council always gets cold feet at the last minute."

"You know as well as I the reason Shepard made the top choice for Special Tactics."

"Except he wasn't. Our top pick was the Hero of the Blitz, who got himself smeared in a motorcycle accident. We'd have even picked that poor crazy bitch from Akuze over him."

"Oh, Dmitry. They didn't care about your list. Nihlus sold them on his vision."

"Well, if they wanted the Butcher of Torfan, now they got him. I don't understand all the fucking tears and whining."

"He killed innocents."

"And when did that matter? Shepard's team is going in to go get him. C-Sec is to stand down. We'll deal with him after we find out what happened. Every time I see his face, I want to shoot the son of a bitch myself, but he always ends up with a good enough reason. I'm not going to just watch them gun him down. He's not going to be the reason we won't have any more Spectres. Not going to let this happen to Anderson again."

"You believe his team can reach him in time?"

"I know it. Those men are hand-picked. And even if some C-Sec goons show up to blow their whistle, they got another thing coming. Tell your Council masters that we've got General Williams' granddaughter out there, a super-powered turian fucker, and the man who killed Commander Vyrrnus. And I have to say, that was years ago, and what he can do now will make that Conatix showdown look like Elmo and Big Bird."

Dead silence on the line.

Mikhailovich said, "Do a search," and closed the channel.

* * *

Some hours ago, they stood in the soporific glow of the presentation room, pulling hard on human coffee and struggling through the captain's brief. Jui Nona swore that Captain Dhreppa was known for his bombastic speeches, but Yeh Purdna, new to the unit, had yet to see it. Dhreppa had muttered in a weak and wavering voice, and when he lost his place in his notes, a sluggish block of downtime crept in. It was almost enough to put a room of salarians to sleep.

He'd been under a lot of stress lately, insisted Jui Nona.

Their mission, when it came down to it, was to protect the first human Spectre. That was only a few hours ago, and he still had the gritty taste of coffee in his mouth.

Now the two of them were up on the balcony of a pricy Presidium penthouse. It hadn't been too hard getting in, and the owner was enjoying the bright season on some pleasure-planet in asari space.

"Perfect vantage everywhere in Presidium," remarked Yeh Purdna. "Like shooting gallery."

Jui Nona was assembling his rifle, rolling on the mod he wanted to use. "Deathtraps important part of prothean culture probably. Have you seen elevators? Take forever."

"Definite fire hazard. Starvation."

"Using concussive rounds?"

"Authorized any force necessary."

"Already casualties. Killed officers on response team."

"Situation isn't very clear. Best to be cautious."

"So, concussive? You want me to put?"

"Concussive. Can always kill later."

Jui Nona nudged aside a potted urn of dripping ivy. He wanted to use the ledge to stabilize the weapon. "You want to take shot? Or I?"

"You. I'll spot."

Jui Nona brought his head close to the rifle. His eye flickered, tracking far-off movement. He raised his head. "Concussive rounds," he said.

"Yes."

"Hm."

"What, hmm?"

"Weapon overheated."

"You didn't even fire."

"No. Internal computer confused. Happens sometimes. Give me yours."

"Mine too."

"No. Clearing up now."

He looked down the sight.

A soft whimper came from behind him.

"Still overheated. Don't know what could be causing--" Jui Nona turned.

A quarian had Yeh Purdna pulled up tight, a vicious dagger held to the softness of his throat.

He saw a red-black suit of Colossus armor with glowing red eye clusters. The human marine hoisted back the butt of the sniper rifle and brought it down in a burst of stars.

* * *

"Tiger, this is Goliath, acknowledge," came a distinctive and welcoming rumble over Shepard's suit radio.

"Goliath, Tiger. Swear to God this isn't what it looks like."

"Hang tight."

* * *

No foot traffic. Tram service stopped. Aircars all absent. The Presidium curved before him, white and pristine with vibrant topiary. It looked like the living image of an alien utopia in every story Kaidan read as a kid. It was almost like they had it all to themselves.

But his scans showed otherwise. Cycling through different views, he saw the register of hidden bodies popping up on thermal. Civilian shapes hugged up tight, shielding their heads with their hands. They knew even less about the situation than Kaidan did at the moment; all they would know was panic, chaos, and the frozen uncertainty of holing up and hoping not to get killed. Kaidan felt for them; he wished he could reassure them, get them somewhere safer, but it wasn't his mission and he didn't have time.

Garrus remarked to him and Shepard once that he used to walk a beat here. He said it was mostly for show. For taking pictures with tourists.

They chanced on an elcor that was too slow to get away. It had its huge bulk behind a tree. Kaidan felt like a jerk.

The elcor lowed a deep and wavering sound. In a monotone, its translator voice read off: "Very frightened and meaning no harm: Please do not shoot me."

"We're not going to hurt you," Kaidan told him, showing empty hands. He knew the green cluster goggles must make him look frightening, alien. "I've just got to take my men and get by. Try to cross the bridge we came over; it's safer there, but don't go as far as C-Sec headquarters."

The Onyx-suited figure of Fredericks reached out a gauntlet and patted the huge leathery flank. "Hey, buddy," he said, "it's all right."

"Those are my favorite ones," he remarked a minute later, a bounce in his nervous voice.

"Keep sharp," Kaidan said, "and remember, we don't fire unless fired upon. And I'll be the first to do it. People might try to take a few shots at us in the confusion, but we're here for Shepard."

Avina sprang up at a terminal as they passed.

The pop of gunfire.

"Don't hear any shotgun," Alvarez said.

"I don't think he even needs one," Kaidan said. "He could be on biotics now."

The deep and resounding roar of a krogan.

Jaz chuckled. "Hope that was Wrex."

Kaidan tried to radio over. "Sir, you read me?"

A truly annoyed voice emerged from static. "Yeah. I'm down in the statue gardens. Me and Williams. Wrex."

"What is your status, sir?"

"We're pinned down. Don't know how many. We got a friendly sniper. Tali's here somewhere. Anybody in blue and black armor is away team. Got Benezia's own out here. We're getting fucked up."

"Copy that, sir. We're almost there."

"Hurry up, LT!" he heard Ashley yell. "You're missin' it!"

"This isn't you rescuing me," said Shepard in what Kaidan thought was a bitchy tone of voice.

* * *

"Let the Alliance clear out of the docks," the turian councillor grunted. "I don't want anything to happen that would escalate the situation. But we'll remember this!"

Tevos passed a hand across her forehead. "Lidanya's trying to talk to Mikhailovich. I don't think he'll listen to anyone but her." She paused, licked her lips. "Tell the Galatani to get out of this. They love to fan the flames."

The salarian councillor said nothing, furrowing his brow over his datapad.

The STG operative bowed his head. "Regrettable situation entirely. Shepard was an initial good choice from humans of three. Hero of Blitz was the best choice of course. And it's a shame about the motorcycle accident. Brave survivor from Akuze, a powerful biotic but liability. And who really knows where she went after her escape from the psychiatric hospital."

"He-- he was our best choice with the batarian threat," Tevos said slowly. "They fear him. There were some who saw him as an avatar of their twin god. But the humans won't move on the batarians with the geth threat coming up. They can't be in two places at once." Her lips went tight. "This has all gone so wrong.. "

The salarian councillor breathed a curse as his datapad locked up. The screen went busy.

"Maybe that was the plan in the first place," grumped the turian councillor. "It's not outside the realm of possibility," he ventured, "that Saren and Shepard might be working together.. "

"Now that can't be true," Tevos said.

The turian councillor huffed. "It doesn't hurt to explore all possibilities in times like this. What's the status now?"

The locked datapad refreshed its screen, and the salarian councillor blinked at the new information. Blinked both set of lids.

"Regrettable it came to this," the STG operative went on. "The prothean beacon damaged his mind. There's precedent for this. Majority of cases. Not your fault. In fact--"

The salarian councillor shook his sleeve. Something the size of a cigarette case fell into his hand. He squeezed the trigger. A high-pitched squeak went off and the STG's head chunked like a melon.

The body fell backward with a pumping hole, and it wasn't until the blood started to fan out that the other two councillors registered what had just happened. Slower than salarian reckoning. They gaped, as did Ambassador Udina, who had just come hurrying up the stairs to plead his case and protect his own power.

"Working for Saren," the salarian councillor said, going back to his datapad. "Pallin says Forward Team not who they are supposed to be. Real Forward Team dead in apartments. Shepard to be questioned not harmed. Give to Captain Anderson."

"What," the turian councillor started.

The salarian councillor tapped a finger on his chin. "And must congratulate Kirrahee on his new promotion."

* * *

Williams took a hit. Hard. She'd popped up out of cover right at the wrong time.

All of a sudden she wasn't next to him anymore; he saw her white armor cracking sideways against a decorative column. Where her rifle flew off to, he had no idea.

She lay dazed. Her arms were moving, like she was trying to get up on her elbows, but her back caved in and she went flat with a moan over his radio.

Shit.

Pistol fire peppered the column above her, and then one shot sizzled in her shields.

It was happening so fast.

He concentrated on the broken statue, each chunk the size of a fist. With a cold wash from his amp, he brained the closest asari, knocking her head in a weird angle across her neck.

"Williams, talk to me," he said.

"I'm good."

He got ahold of her boot and dragged her behind a garden box. Lower than before. He had to get down on his face to keep out of fire.

"Name, rank, serial number," he said.

She made a sluggish sound.

He passed a hand over her upper back, and started to take hold of the hoses and tubing there. They looked intact. He tore his eyes away, rocking up enough to look around cover, putting a visual to the encroaching blip on his scanner. One of the commandos was changing cover.

Out of nowhere, a shot pierced her skull and the front of her visor splattered solid blue. Her twitching hands squeezed off a wild shot and she fell dead. Thanks, cap'n.

"I'm sealing you up, I want you to go on oxygen."

Shepard heard her faceplate hiss with compliance. He patted her shoulder, gave it a squeeze. "Can you breathe?"

"Yeah. Gimme a second. Still good. How many left.. "

He boiled the ground with a shockwave, giving himself room and time. He had to get this right.

"Tali? You with us?"

"Shepard!"

"Tali. Need you to lock on William's suit. Make her sig real bright and broadcast it. But wait ten seconds."

"But they'll see her for sure! They'll shoot her!"

"Just do it. And give me a count-down."

Shepard got his hands under Ashley, heard her make a deep and murmury sound. He flipped her leg up on his knee. "Williams," he said, "it's been an honor."

Glowing blue, he flung her over the wall and dumped her down into the lake.

Wrex staggered, his helmet compromised. The whole faceplate was dented in, smashed up, and webbed with glowing cracks. It was of no further use to him, and even the HUD was on the blink. Error messages were flashing on the inside.

He put a stubby hand up to help pull it off, but it was stuck, so he rubbed his face against the edges of a broken pillar. He managed to catch the underside and pull the damn thing off. Fresh air rushed in and enveloped his face.

Wrex crunched down over the head of an asari and flung her headless body. Blue blood spurting from his mouth as he spat out a helmet and roared.

Shepard ought to like that, he thought.

It was going to be tough without face protection, though. His head made a wide target, but he didn't have much choice in the matter. He was just going to have to be good, and he was just going to have to win. He'd been through worse. Not lately. But worse.

"Wrex, take cover!"

"I got it. So here's an idea. Go like me."

He charged an asari. Shepard tensed, chose a target, and ran. It took him a couple seconds to build up a rhythm coming out of a crouch, but once the time was ripe, he blurred and bowled into one of the asari. He kicked her weapon away and slammed the butt of his shotgun into her helmet again and again. Wrex had no need to kick his once she was down; he just stood planted a foot on her helmet and leaned in, letting his weight crush her skull. He gave a deep, defiant bellow, showing his teeth to a commando who stood up out of cover.

* * *

Shepard went down flat next to an asari corpse. The gunfire was too close to tell the direction. Just sound. His HUD showed Wrex's suit going into failure. It was only a matter of time once he lost his helmet.

He pressed himself tight against the ground and tried to get a look around the edge. Just in time he saw Wrex take a few last hits, stagger, and knock the arm off a statue on his way down.

Get back up! Get back up!

Krogan always get back up, Shepard knew.

Now they concentrated on him.

Five or maybe six. Hard to tell.

A rifle cracked and a headless body tripped. Anderson, thank God.

Shepard crawled backward on his hands and knees now, trying to stay low. He did the right thing with Williams. He couldn't have expected her to hold on as long as a krogan battlemaster.

He felt the icy burn of his amp. A strange odd rage at, of all people, Victoria Danvers. If it weren't for that bitch, he'd have something better in there than an Aldrin Solaris level one.

His body tensed. He dug his fingers into dirt. He gritted his teeth, willing with all his might..

A crackle of dark energy, but nothing. He felt the cool weird rush behind his eyes. Please God. Just let me make a singularity again. Just one. All I need is one.

He felt a punch of a hit. His shields sizzled. Fuck.

He was seeing icons pop up. Alenko, Alvarez, Fredericks, Jaz, and the guys.

"Sorry about this, sir," said Alenko over his radio, and Shepard had the weird sensation of locking into stasis.

* * *

The marines had eight seconds of free fire. While the stasis still stood, Shepard couldn't be touched.

Enough time to cut into the krogan and asari commandos.

Kaidan propelled one of them through the air. The gory splinters of a tree branch protruded from her abdomen. He didn't bother with his pistol, not while he had a fireteam under his command. He concentrated instead on the moving bodies of the enemy, slapping them away with a torrent of biotic energy.

He ducked behind behind cover to join up with Shepard. John came out of stasis ready to fight-- he was on delayed time-- and he grabbed Kaidan hard before he realized they were on the same team.

Jaz pressed Mirabelle into his hands. "Found her, sir," he yelled, and Shepard gave him a punch in the shoulder.

Nick and Fredericks concentrated fire on a krogan, who closed in on them with wild fire. It died just as it reached them, toppling across the two of them. They managed to shove the body off, one helping the other squirm free. Alvarez shot its head close range, splattering them in an orange mess.

"You got to make sure!" she screamed.

Kaidan threw another asari into the curved wall of the garden. The nape of her neck struck the wall in contact, snapping the bones. Her head wobbled and fell backwards at a sickening angle. She was done. The commander got off a last shot with the shotgun, and the blast took the leg off a commando holdout.

The drone of the gunships filled the air. Their ugly bulk looked out of place in the gleaming Presidium, where you would usually find the sleekest of personal vehicles and pleasure craft. Gunners were leaning out on the strut.

Wrex rolled over with a groan. One stubby arm waspushing up.

Shepard was breathing hard. Blood all over him. Kaidan saw his hard blue eyes behind the visor, nodded. He clapped a hand on Shepard's shoulder, pulling him back under cover.

"You're a crazy son of a bitch," Kaidan said.

"_Sir_," Shepard growled.

"Crazy son of a bitch, sir."

The crazy blue eyes were rolling in his head, all at the corners now. "Yeah. And you know what.. we just. I just. Asari fucking commandos." He was watching the gunships, getting ready, his fingers tightening on the shotgun. "It was a trap."

The gunships began to strafe the lower plaza now, mopping up the last krogan. Shepard visibly relaxed when he saw they weren't coming to fight him. Strangely, Kaidan thought he saw a little disappointment. Like if he had to fight everyone else.. he might as well.

"Fuckin' gunships." Shepard scrabbled two fingers under his chin, unhooked his helmet, and threw it off with disgust. He had blue bloody smears on his skin. "Guess they pussed out on me. Good. I'm sick of this shit."

Kaidan sighed. It wasn't worth telling Shepard not to pick a fight with a fully armored gunship. He just patted his shoulder, trying to gauge him for his condition. He looked like he was barely hanging in there, from the way he heaved and panted, from the fluttery look of his eyelids. Frenetic, crazy energy. He'd crash soon. He'd used so much power. "Where's chief?"

"She'll be all right."

"I don't see her."

Shepard said something that didn't make it over the roar of the gunship engines.

"What?"

"I said," Shepard yelled. "The hanar will get her out!"


	16. Chapter 16

Ambassador Donnel Udina was coming down from a world-class rage. Veins were standing out in his face. Tendons sticking out of his neck. His trademark fist was in the air. His aide was cowering. Moments ago, he had dramatically swept datapads off of his desk-- the effect somewhat ruined by the presence of a mild-mannered keeper, who went about tidying the place up according to its arcane specifications.

"Where were you the whole time?" Udina demanded, seizing on Anderson's arrival.

"Sorry to miss all the excitement," David said, straightening the cuffs of his uniform. "But it looks like everything's under wraps right now?"

"If that's what you want to call it," sniffed Udina. "The comm is ringing off the hook. The Council, the media, the Alliance, everyone, everything. C-Sec is conducting a bloody purge. Trams still down. Limited sky traffic. I've had to reschedule all of my appointments."

Anderson stepped around the keeper, ignoring it as it ignored him. "Sounds better than before," he said as he went to the desk. "Anyway, C-Sec will do the right thing. Kicking down doors, dragging people out. Obliterating the remnants of Saren's network here. Pallin's job and honor are on the line. The Spectres made him look terrible, so he should have ample motivation to help us out."

Udina hissed. "This is a disaster."

The keeper picked up one of the chairs, starting the process of moving furniture to the opposite end of the room.

"Not so bad as we think. I've just been talking with the Alliance. After some misunderstandings.. the turians are impressed with Shepard and his team. It took everyone, and a little luck, but they brought down almost a full commando squad."

"After enormous bloodshed. The destruction of priceless artifacts. The asari are going to complain about that. What am I going to tell them."

Anderson picked an book off the desk, wiped it off, and tucked it neatly under his arm. "You don't have to tell them anything," he said. "If you'll excuse me.. "

* * *

The Alliance carrier, _Lord Lao_, had the curious honor of being named for a peculiar figure half-shrouded in legend. There were several accounts, but it was said in one story that Lord Lao had been a brilliant inventor whom the fearful gods had punished with madness. The captain's cabin and the mess were decorated with holographic reproductions from his wild notebooks. A mad man with mad dreams, the dream of flight.

"Commander, please," said Dr. Chakwas, "Captain Kin was generous enough to let us into the medbay. If you keep this up, we'll both be going out the airlock.. "

"I hate these hospital gowns," Shepard complained. "My ass is always hanging out. Might as well go whole hog."

"Now, John. Are you just going to fly around naked irritating everyone?"

Shepard smirked back at her. He was levitating with a dull blue-black glow rippling over his bruised body. "You know me, Helen."

He'd taken a beating, and he was almost certainly going to have to change out bio-amps. Yet he was conscious, speaking, aware of his environment, and being his usual obnoxious self. Dr. Chakwas was trying to scan him, a somewhat easier task now that he attempted the Lotus position.

"You could have been killed," she said, watching the readout on her omnitool. "We were all so worried."

The doors of the medbay hissed and Captain Anderson came through, flanked by two officers from the _Lord Lao_. Anderson thanked them, exchanged some words, and drifted up to his former crew with a furrowed brow. He had a book tucked under his arm.

"Cap'n," Shepard said, a mischievous grin crossing his face. He had a black eye that was transmogrifying into a truly spectacular blue-black-green-yellow oil slick of color. "Forgive me if I don't stand at attention."

"Be at ease," Anderson grumped. "Why don't you have any clothes on?"

"You know Doc Chakwas," Shepard said. "You leave her alone with a young man for just one minute. God only knows what happened to Alenko."

Anderson rolled his eyes and got down to it. "Everyone's all right. Wrex came back to life."

"I know. They always do. How's Williams?"

"Wet and angry. The hanar fished her out of the lake."

Johnny's grin became something truly beautiful. "I bet she just loved that."

"Well, that was a crazy thing to do, John, but you got her out of danger. She had more than enough air."

"You know, I've always been curious what's under the Presidium lake. I'll ask her."

Anderson put his face in his hand. "Honestly, John.. I wouldn't bring it up ever again."

"How's Alenko?"

"Back on the _Normandy_. One of his headaches."

"My hero," Shepard said in his sassiest voice.

"Now, John, he went back for you."

"I'll never live this down."

Someone from the _Lord Lao_ came in with some fresh folded clothes, saw Shepard, blushed, and laid the bundle on a sidetable. She bowed, said something quickly to Anderson, and left.

Shepard looked unhappy. "I lost my knife," he said after a moment, picking at the clothes.

"Well, you're lucky you didn't lose more than that."

He gloomed. "It was a Christmas present."

Anderson remembered the suspiciously shaped package under the ship tree that year. Margaret had been so pleased with herself.

"We can get you another one."

"I don't want another one."

"She probably has ten of them, John." Anderson rubbed at his face. "How's your Solaris?"

"I think he's ready for a different amplifier, Captain," Dr. Chakwas spoke up, cycling through a menu on her omnitool. "Since Commander Shepard is humanity's Spectre now, he deserves the best we can offer."

Shepard perked up a little. "Yeah, cap'n-- I bet if we got on the horn with the people on the Ascension Project, they might make some recommendations."

He added, brighter now, "Over dinner, even." He was dressing himself. Civilian clothes, something loose and comfortable, vaguely Asian in style.

"Johnny, you're on thin ice right now," Anderson warned.

"Of course, sir."

Dr. Chakwas tried to hide her smile. "I'll send off this report and we'll see what we can do," she said, dimming the projection from her omnitool. "Please behave, John."

Anderson set his book aside and pulled up a chair. "Another Spectre spoke on your behalf. She had a follower in place for something of her own."

"Where is she?" Shepard eyed the book, but said nothing. There was nothing to discern from its cracked black leather cover. He was curious, but David wouldn't reward him just yet. "I want to talk to another Spectre. They need to know what's happening."

"I don't know where she is. Left. She was here on her own affairs. Something to do with Pallin. Spectres almost cost him his job-- may even still-- so I don't think she'll get what she wants, whatever it was."

"The Council will never help me."

"No."

"Well-- fuck 'em."

"I'm sorry it happened like this, John."

"Me too. But sometimes to get things done you gotta do it yourself."

"I believe you," Anderson told him gently.

"Everybody thinks I'm a rampaging asshole."

"Johnny.. you are a rampaging asshole."

Shepard scowled. "Yeah well, fuck them."

Anderson leaned back in the chair, his hands spread out on his knees. Might as well get to it. "About Commander Danvers' wife."

"Oh God." Shepard sank back onto the bed, making a sour face.

"You never told me your side of the story."

"Does that even matter now?"

"Why did you hit her?"

"Because she deserved it."

"John." He didn't want to pick at an old wound, but there was something more. Hell. There had to be. If anyone else had done what he did..

"Everyone knows she deserved it," Shepard said. "Kind of strange that I hit that bitch in front of a room of people and nobody saw anything."

"You weren't officially punished for that, but I think we both know what your Arcturus desk job was about. And the medication." He would have never gotten away with it if he wasn't what he was.

"Arcturus wasn't so bad. Don't really remember half of it til my meds got flushed." He smirked. "I'd do it again."

"You didn't sleep with her, did you?" Half the Alliance had made that mistake, so far as Anderson had heard. He wasn't one for gossip, but on some ships it was impossible not to know scuttlebutt. Yet he thought he knew Shepard better than that.

"She propositioned me once," John allowed. "I think she wanted a slice off the Butcher of Torfan. Back when crazy was in style. Fuck that. Maybe she was angry I refused her. Maybe she wanted attention. I don't know. Could care less now. At the party, she said some things to me, trying to get me riled up."

"Then it worked."

Shepard sighed.

"You let her make you angry."

"We were civil at the party. It was like nothing had ever happened. We talked for a few minutes by the punch bowl. Then she leaned in real close.. she said, out of nowhere, 'I should hope your sister enjoys fucking aliens as much as you do.'"

Anderson blinked. He hadn't expected that. "She was trying to bait you, John."

"I can't say no to a lady."

"That could have cost you more than a desk job, John, that could have been your career."

Shepard scowled. "I know it was stupid, sir.. but nobody says that kind of shit to me. Nobody."

Anderson saw the flash of pain on his face, that stubborn set to his jaw, like he was ready to pick a fight with anybody. His heart sank. He thought of the scrawny boy with the shaved head and varren bite from a therapy vid he had forced himself to watch. He'd been trying to understand. He thought of the raid on Mindoir, the fire and chaos the survivors described. The cruelty of the batarians. The gruesome fate of the captives. The death of a brave and unusual girl that Anderson never met, but felt that he had come to know.

But how could John be so stupid. Impulsive. That temper..

David sighed. "I know, Johnny," he said. "I'm sorry. People like Victoria Danvers can't even begin to comprehend the horror and suffering of a slaver raid. That witch doesn't even know what she's talking about."

"Yeah," Shepard said, flat.

Anderson hated this part, but it was the theme of a talk he'd had with John all his career. "You're going to be in the spotlight now. I don't envy you. I don't know how I would have managed if I'd have been the first. Everyone's going to pick at you, pick at your life. You can't just go around punching everyone in the face."

"Actually, cap'n.. " Shepard rubbed his jaw thoughtfully.

Anderson gave him a stern look.

Johnny lowered his eyes. "Yeah, I know," he said.

After a moment, Anderson relented, and said, "Jane would be so proud of you, you know."

"You kidding?" Johnny frowned. "Nothing was good enough for her. She always had to upstage me. She'd be flying around in her own reaper by now."

Anderson felt a genuine smile coming over. "I have your present," he said. He reached back and picked up the old book, handing it over. "This is what I wanted to give you."

He watched Shepard's face closely for his reaction. Curiosity at first, as he ran a hand over the cracked black leather of the cover. He opened it carefully from the edges, and it took him a moment to realize what he was looking at. Anderson relished the sudden change in his expression.

"The _Book of the Black Lotus_," he said. The obscure and mysterious Zu of the Black Marsh was his favorite philosopher.

"I know how angry you were when you lost your other copy. Anyway, this version has Tho Fan on one side and a translation on the other. I know how you like the calligraphy."

John traced his fingers in reverence over the pages.

"Just don't get any other tattoos," Anderson said. "You don't even know what those things mean."

"You know, there's got to be somebody on _Lord Lao_ who knows even a little Tho Fan." Shepard was looking in better spirits all the time. He grinned and patted his thigh, where he'd staggered back from shore leave with a tattoo in a long-dead language. "They might be able to tell me what my tattoo says."

"Now John. You can't just go around showing your ass to people. You've made enough enemies as it is."

Shepard cocked an eyebrow. "I don't know, cap'n-- that one intel guy up there kind of gives me the impression that--"

"Please don't create any incidents aboard this carrier. We don't want Captain Kin to put you out the airlock."

"Are you kidding? I love this ship. I'll be a good little angel, you know me." Shepard grinned a puckish grin, and then his face grew very serious. He looked like a dog balancing a treat on the end of its nose. "Thanks, cap'n-- for everything."

Anderson felt weary, felt all of his years. Shepard was so draining. "I believe you, John. It's up to you now.. but you've got a good crew. A good team."

"So, by the way," Shepard said, in that tone of voice that Anderson learned to dread.

"What is it?"

"I need your computer to send something back to Arcturus," Johnny said. "I have Ashley's transfer paperwork and payroll. I'm going to issue her some equipment and call it even. I know_ just the thing_, too."

* * *

Under the spreading branches of a flowering alien tree, a couple sat together on a curving stone-carved bench. A man and a woman-- a man in his forties, perhaps, with a weathered face, hard eyes, and sharp broad-shouldered figure beneath his drab overcoat. The woman was asari, elegant, ageless, in casual attire.

They were tossing pieces of Thessia flatbread onto the shore of the lake. The feimuk fought growling and squeaking over the morsels before they plopped back into the waters.

"What's going to happen to Shepard?" the asari asked, after a long while. This she said in English.

"Tied to a mast and whipped in the grand naval tradition," said the man in the same. He had a neutral, North American accent. Growing up in New York was Mikhailovich's other secret. "Unfortunately, Hackett overruled me."

"There will be no repercussions from the council," Lidanya said.

Mikhailovich slid a flask out of his coat. "Not like they can do anything to him now, anyway."

"He turned out to be right. In his own way. And I suppose there are some turians who have a greater respect for him now. Violence always has a peculiar way of impressing them." She took in a breath. "Anarinda T'Pela had thirty-six cybernetic implants embedded in her body. All of an unknown origin. The asari commando unit had similar augmentation, as did two of the krogan bodies that were recovered."

"Geth technology? Like the husks?"

"We don't know yet. Citadel Security's chief coroner is requesting outside specialists to assist in the inquest." She paused, and turned to face him. "We understand your own scientists are studying the altered bodies from Eden Prime. If we work together we might find a better answer."

Mikhailovich frowned. "No promises," he said. "Tell the damn Council to give us some ships. Or hell. Get the salarians to give us those little squeak guns."

Lidanya sighed. "We are still investigating the matter of the geth movement beyond the Veil. It will take time to form an accurate assessment and mobilize our forces, if the Council decides accordingly. There are risks involved, and.. "

"It always takes more time, doesn't it?" Mikhailovich asked softly.

She reached out and squeezed his hand. The skin felt leathery and tough to her. He was getting older. They always did.

He got up and went on his way.

In the elevator, hands shoved in his pockets, he was accosted by a smiling alien he distrusted immediately. More than usual.

"Admiral Mikhailovich-- it is a distinct pleasure," said the asari, a young one with unnerving eyes-- too widely set apart, too hard. Her smile never reached them.

"Piss off. Not interested."

"Can't. You know how slow these things are." She shrugged and gestured to the elevator car. "I'm Gwekga. I was hoping to have a moment of your time."

"Looks like I can't say no. Fucking protheans." He'd die an old man in this damn thing.

"I just wanted to meet the man behind Qutaaru III, and, incidentally.. I may have some information of some interest to you."

Liara came onboard with all her goofy baggage-- her computers, her books, her whatever-the-hell all bundled up and knocking at her feet as she stumbled and walked up the gangway before the marines ran up to lighten her load.

"Oh, Commander Shepard," she said, "thank you so much. You won't regret this. I don't say this lightly, but I consider myself one of the foremost authorities on Late Dynasty Prothean, and believe you me, I wouldn't say that if it wasn't true-- from a scholarly perspective, and.. "

Shepard texted Kaidan over his omnitool: _is it to late to shoot her_

Kaidan wrote back, almost immediately: _wouldn't go over well sir_

He sighed, and thumped his book gently against his thigh as he waited out the airlock.

Later, standing over the CiC in his sharp blues-- with a huge black eye, Shepard addressed the vessel.

"Everyone. Good work. They say no one has gone against an asari commando unit and lived. They weren't talking about _Normandy_. We got off on the wrong foot. I've been an asshole. It has come to my attention that this is a problem with me. However for the duration of this voyage I will still be an asshole."

He looked across the CiC. Fredericks grinned at him.

"If you have any reservations, you can depart while we are still docked here in the Citadel. In the military we put up and shut up, but the nature of our mission demands your complete focus. There will be no penalties for those of you who wish to leave now. The _Lord Lao_ is in system. It has a bar. I was just there and saw it with my own eyes. The Stalingrad is here too. It does not have a bar, but it's got a lot of Russians and you know what that means. The _Marvelous Dragonfly_ conducts exciting missions, but if you thought Moreau was the most annoying pilot in the fleet.. you were mistaken."

Bridge Officer Xuan smirked. She, too, had made the acquaintance of Lt Ming, the "Raging Dragon."

"But if you wish to stay on_ Normandy_. I have full confidence in you. I promise you plenty of ridiculous situations and gunfights in strange and exciting locales. We are going to break things and kill people. We will blow up a lot of shit. Kaidan Alenko will be the sorriest officer in the entire Systems Alliance with all the paperwork he is going to have to file. Saren wants to dredge up the past and play out his little fantasy. Fine. Saren wants a fight, we'll give him one and take away all his toys. This will be a difficult mission, but I have full faith in you. It is an honor."

* * *

Meanwhile, back on Arcturus Station.

They stood in front of the office screens. The television arrays were crowded with talking heads, gesturing reporters, and crying eyewitnesses from a half a dozen regions and languages. News tickers were scrolling by uncontrollably.

"Shell-shocked recollection," moaned an elcor, filling up one screen. "It was like a loud boom."

A salarian blinked rapidly and waved his hands. "It was like, it was like, explosions! And biotics everywhere! Just so much happening and then it was all quiet and then!"

A kindly older gentleman smiled gently into one camera. "Johnny's got the devil in him," he explained. "A devil you can't even understand. No ma'am, no indeed. The two-faced god-- out of the void, in a fiery chariot.. it's all there if you read it. Yes ma'am, in the_ Book of Old Blood_. I've tried to help him. I can help him still. Johnny, you can still come to me.. it's not too late."

Lt Paulsons stared into the hypnotizing eyes for a moment and then said to the others: "Strange how Major Kyle makes the most sense right now."

"Heh, man. I'm with you," Lt Panhwar said. "My buddy's on that ship and he's totally not coming back. He is dog food right now. How in the hell does Shepard get away with bringing a krogan battlemaster on an Alliance vessel?"

"Now, he was such a nice boy, so polite," piped up Cynthia, the office secretary. "I love the filing system he came up with. It really cuts down the workload for everyone."

Tasha Veracruz said, slowly, "True, but.. he just killed a woman with his bare hands in front of the entire Citadel."

"Turn that nonsense off," Captain Ewan barked. He had just come in, a scowl deepening on his face once he saw the everpresent coverage. His skin was still a blistery bright red.

"Hey, uh, yes sir," Panhwar said. He was the closest one to change the screens.

Ewan had been in a foul mood since the whole suspicious package incident. Paulsons had been out of the office for a followup at the clinic when John's ex-girlfriend sent him a gift that got mistaken for a biohazard. Emergency lockdown/stripping/scouring procedures were implemented. They take that kind of thing very seriously here.

The screens now showed the Alliance military network channel. All of which were featuring a portrait and profile of Lieutenant Commander John Shepard, in his most official looking blues.

Ewan stalked off back to his office. Panhwar winced, made an 'I don't work here' face, and followed after. "Uh, sir, actually I came here to get something signed.. "

"Oh, speak of the devil," Cynthia said. "We've got mail."

* * *

_From: John Shepard  
_

_CC: David Anderson  
_

_Subject: Transfer of Personnel/Pay Receipt for Williams, Ashley M_

_To whom it may concern,_

_Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams has been transferred to the _SSV Normandy_. Please update your records accordingly. In addition, the issue of unresolved pay is now addressed. In accordance with Alliance Regulations Part V: Issuance of Pay and Benefits, Sub-part III, paragraph 6 and 7, per the commander's discretion, equipment may be issued to personnel subtracted from or in lieu of regular pay._

_Pay and backpay for Chief Williams outlined below:_

_Combat Scanner II......................................... 1 unit_

_Kinetic Stabilizer III......................................... 1 unit_

_Home Stylin' Beef Jerky (Teriyaki Flavor)....... 51.5 units_

_I trust this resolves the matter. Attached you will find Forms 331 and 924._

_Sincerely,_

_John Isaiah Shepard_

_Lieutenant Commander, Systems Alliance Navy_

_Commander, _SSV Normandy

_This message originated from an Alliance military network. It has been censored at transmission source for security purposes. Any reply may be read by military authorities._

_

* * *

_

Author's note:

Thanks for all your kind words, comments, and critiques. I feel like I've come a long way since I started scribbling this stuff down. I hope you've had fun!


End file.
